The Kwinkan. Mudrooroo

course of the investigations, and frequent adjournments to attend to any little hobbies I might care to cultivate discreetly. Then, even in that humid heat, reality like a tropic downpour flooded me. I could not see myself enjoying that position for long. It was inevitable that my enemies would begin their work of innuendo and insinuation, or if not that, I might be caught with my hand in the till, or be called to account over an outrageously padded expense account. And then, I knew this for certain, any hint of my being recommended for a position as chairperson of any committee of inquiry would arouse a storm of protests from the Opposition in the name of public accountability, virtue and the Australian way of keeping things in cupboards. I had been found out once too often. Questions would have been asked in the house, insults traded, files leaked and my name would have had to be hastily withdrawn. My old school chum would have been hard put to offer me anything more than a miserable consultative job which would have hardly paid enough to keep my creditors at bay. I would have been fobbed off with a pittance. Well, so much for the strength of the old school tie!

      ‘And so, have I made myself clear on why I, I decided to attend that social do! In the hope that I might meet someone. Someone I could use in my efforts to bring about the downfall of my old school chum, or failing that, a politician or businessman I might use to retrieve my fortunes. I needed to find hope. I needed to regain my nerve. I had to find the courage to begin anew. I was at sixes and sevens. My soul was a tangled knot which I had to untie.

      ‘As luck, or misfortune would have it, the Prime Minister was in attendance at the party, or rather the party danced attendance on him. He was the hero of the hour, though already daggers were being thrust into his back by those southerners who resented the rise of Queensland. I sought to establish contacts with a prominent enemy of his, but was rebuffed. Then during the evening when the spotlight had temporarily left the PM to focus in on a famous opera singer with the face of a horse who gargled “Queensland The Ultimate”, he took the opportunity to draw me into the library which was shrouded in a gloom as dense as the gloom covering my mind. The only light was a reading lamp bent over a desk. He sat on the sofa to the left side of this light, sucked at his trademark pipe, extended his legs, bit down hard on the pipe stem, dragged it from his mouth between his thumb and forefinger, then spoke with all the gravity of the statesman which two consecutive electoral successes had supposedly made him.

      ‘He stated: “Since yesterday, I have been carefully considering your case with a number of close colleagues.” He nodded his head to underline colleagues, then lifted his pipe, sucked on the stem, then lowered it again. Morosely, I watched this exercise in public relations, for in deference to the growing indignation of the anti-tobacco lobby, he never filled the pipe.

      ‘ “Yes,” he continued, “we considered all aspects of your position.” Again a pause, and although it was hard to pierce the gloom, I was sure that his eyes were staring into mine in an attempt to wear away my incredulity. “I can see,” he said, “that you don’t exactly trust me, that you think that I am out to dupe you, or fob you off as quickly and as painlessly as possible. I assure you I have no intention of doing this.” His hand went to his tie as if to emphasise an eternal boyhood connection.

      ‘ “Well, I have had some doubts, but I accept your bona fides. What have you got for me?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement. My old mate had come through.

      ‘His teeth glimmered through the murk as he smiled what must have been his best media smile. I remember that the sharks were bad along the coast that year. “Ah, I see that we understand one another. Now listen carefully. After considering your position and your somewhat unique qualifications we have decided, in your best interests understand, that you should make yourself scarce for a while. Get away out of the country and out of the public eye.”

      ‘He paused to suck at his pipe. It was my turn to smile. I was, I was being offered an ambassadorship. I hoped that it was London. I knew that, as yet, I was not experienced enough for Tokyo or Washington; but, well, if not London, perhaps Paris, arrh ... then!

      ‘ “We think that this is best after that election fiasco. It appears that you antagonised certain powerful interests who are about to administer the public purse. It is absolutely necessary that you get away, and so, well, there is this diplomatic post, newly created of course, which will be ideal for you. Of course, it is not in one of the more desirable countries, or even a nation in its own right as yet; but it is vitally important that Australia has some sort of representation there, not officially you understand, but someone to be on hand if things go awry. You see, your election campaign was not entirely a fiasco, for you did manage to get the black vote out. You have an aptitude in that direction as well as the necessary experience. Detective Watson Holmes Jackamara spoke highly of you. Just think if you had won that election, what with your black connection. Sorry, a jest; but this too is along those lines. You have become an expert on, shall we say, native peoples.”

      ‘I opened my mouth to say something, but he waved it shut.

      ‘ “Jackamara and I have been associates for some time. He is a man above average, and I am not one to let talent go unused ... or unrewarded.”

      ‘There, there, these were his very words. Does it not show that Jackamara and that old rogue were in cahoots? During that reign of corruption he was hand in glove with them. What, don’t you think so? Well, if you are honest, you’ll expose that man for what he was, and possibly still is. Investigate him and you’ll find that he was a traitor to your people. Let me ask you. Have you ever seen him march in a demonstration? Have you ever seen him come out in opposition to policies against the Aboriginal people? The answer is “no”! And you still want me to continue? ... I shall and will. But first, isn’t the tape running out? Best change it ... I want all of this down ... There, now where was I?

      ‘After the, the PM made this startling disclosure, I tried to respond, but couldn’t. To think that I was being offered a posting on the recommendation of my minder. It was too much, too too bloody much. How low the mighty have fallen, from the ultimate heights to the abysmal depths, and to think that I was the one who had first used that word ultimate to describe all things bright and Queensland.

      ‘ “It is an excellent posting, though, of course, there’s no such thing as an embassy, or consulate; but let me assure you that the place is British, at least for the time being, and there’ll be no problem with language.”

      ‘ “Sweet Jesus,” I exclaimed in a panic. “What have I done to deserve this? I’m being exiled, shipped off to some rotten, godforsaken place to rot. Do you take me for some kind of fool?”

      ‘ “You always were an excitable chap,” the Prime Minister commented imperturbably. “Well, it may be a good thing in the place where you’re going. Well, this country, or rather group of islands, is to achieve independence in the near future and the arrangements are now being drawn up in London in close consultation with our Department of Foreign Affairs. This island group after all is close to our shores, and we must not only have a say in its future, but must now learn about what’s happening there: who are the local leaders, what’s their political persuasion and so on and so forth. You’ll be filled in on this in Canberra. So now you know the job. Only a fact-finding mission, you understand. Nothing else, but a fact-finding mission. You are not being forced into exile or any such absurdity like that. What I’m offering you is a coolingoff period away from your enemies. Look on it as a holiday, see it as a chance to get away and have time out to pull yourself together. God, how I envy you. Your own desert island, your own primeval South Sea island paradise. God, the opportunities there. A future Gold Coast and you there right at the beginning. It’ll leave Surfers’ for dead one day, and you have the savvy to make it happen to the advantage of yourself, Queensland and of course, Australia.”

      ‘ “What, what?” I stuttered. This man was too, too much. They were getting rid of me on the cheap. Why had I threatened them?

      ‘ “I’d give my eyeteeth to be on the ground floor. Sad, sad, responsibilities of office and duty hold me in chains. So I offer this plum to you, old mate. It’s yours, for the eating.”

      ‘ “I’m the one who’s being eaten,” I muttered, feeling myself teetering on the edge of a great despair-the ultimate despair.