Choices. Jeff Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ her file, Diane rang Connor’s assistant and requested an urgent interview with the head of public information.

      When she arrived at his office later that afternoon his PA was waiting. ‘He’s extremely busy at the moment. I hope your matter is as urgent as you say.’

      ‘I’m sure he’ll want to know about this.’

      ‘He has another meeting in ten minutes. That’s all the time he can spare.’

      ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      The PA escorted Diane into Connor’s office, and the head of public information placed a file to one side as the agent sat down. ‘What can I do for you Agent Hall?’

      ‘It’s about Daniel Travers, sir.’

      ‘I thought that we had finished with that fool.’

      ‘I’ve been doing some further checking, and I’ve come up with some disturbing findings.’

      ‘To do with this Travers fellow?’

      ‘Yes sir.’

      ‘What has he been up to now?’

      ‘Are you aware that he recently returned from Bali?’

      ‘Went on a holiday, did he?’

      ‘He seems to go there on a regular basis,’ nodded Diane. ‘Are you aware that he was in Bali when the drug dealer Arny Holland was murdered?’

      Connor and his PA exchanged a sharp look. ‘It must be a coincidence of course.’

      Diane shook her head. ‘I’ve checked further back sir. Are you aware that Travers was in Bali at the exact time that Abu Bin Ahmad the bomb maker was killed, and he was there when Din Nassir Abbas was killed?’

      Connor leaned forward. ‘Are you sure about this?’

      ‘I have his passport details right here. Each visit coincides with a killing.’

      ‘It could all still be a coincidence,’ said the PA.

      ‘Obviously the CIA don’t think so,’ said Connor. ‘This is obviously what Spink was hinting at.’

      ‘But why would he do it? He couldn’t be acting by himself, could he?’

      ‘I’ve checked on what we have been able to find out about these killings and they appear to be too sophisticated for a single person. He must be working with, or for, someone.’

      ‘The CIA believe he’s one of ours.’

      ‘Could it be a black ops department within ASIO that is so secret that only a select few know about it?’

      Connor shook his head. ‘I’ve been here for years. Nothing could be that secret.’

      ‘Are you positive?’ asked Diane.

      Connor shook his head. ‘No. I can’t declare that I am positive.’

      * * *

      Connor took Diane’s file with him when he went to see ASIO’s chief of staff.

      ‘Do we have any double zero agents within ASIO?’ asked Connor.

      ‘Do we have what?’ asked the chief of staff.

      ‘Double zero agents, like James Bond, licensed to kill?’

      ‘What have you been drinking Connor?’

      Connor handed over the file on Dan Travers. ‘We have a man here who claims to be a part of ASIO and who is documented as being present in Bali on three separate occasions when murders took place.’

      ‘Murders! That’s something for the police to look at not ASIO.’

      ‘Sir, the murders were of Din Nassir Abbas, Abu Bin Ahmad and Arny Holland.’

      ‘Shit!’ exclaimed a very surprised chief of staff, who now opened the file. ‘Are you sure about this?’

      ‘It could still be a coincidence sir, but even the CIA think he’s the one.’

      The chief of staff studied the information. ‘This Agent Hall … what’s she like?’

      ‘She’s been with us for over fifteen years. Excellent credentials—a very effective agent.’

      ‘She’s met this Travers?’

      ‘For a very short time.’

      ‘Assign this matter to her as a matter of priority. I want her to find out one way or the other whether this Travers person has anything to answer for.’

      CHAPTER 11

       Dan

      Okay, I said to myself as I paddled out through the surf, my life has turned to shit yet again, but I’ve managed to survive, and although it might be harder this time, I know I will get through. After all, it’s been happening to me all my life.

      The waves today were small and inconsistent, and there were too many riders out to make surfing a comfortable proposition, but I had no wish to return to the beach, and sat astride my board letting the sun and the waves lull me into a feeling of calm distraction.

      My mind wandered back to the first time that life had kicked me in the guts, and I could hear the shouting matches that had accompanied my father’s drunken return from his nightly sessions at the local RSL club.

      Both he and his brother, my Uncle Bill, had served in Vietnam, and I used to hear my mother’s screaming accusations that the pair had been using their forced service in that unpopular war as an excuse to drink more. ‘You and your drunken mates are pathetic,’ she accused him shrilly. ‘Anyone would think that you and your brother were the only ones to ever go to war. You make me sick.’

      The drinking finally caught up with my father when after a few too many drinks at lunchtime one day, he had returned to the building site where he was working and fell from a badly maintained scaffolding to his death five stories below.

      Despite the acrimonious marriage, my mother never fully recovered from the sudden loss, and turned more and more to the bottle herself. At the age of ten, and as the only child, I found myself having to take care of not only myself but my mother as well.

      Dad’s friends at the RSL came to my assistance through Legacy, an organisation of former military personnel who voluntarily stepped forward to aid the families of deceased former soldiers, seamen and airmen. My school expenses were paid for, and sometimes one of the men would come around to take me away for the weekend. I’d go camping or fishing with him and his family, and I looked forward to these outings as an opportunity to escape the daily grind of making sure that my mother was fed and the house cleaned. She often overlooked these necessities in favour of downing more alcohol.

      I had walked in the СКАЧАТЬ