Any Means Necessary. Shane Britten

instinct triggered in me, long-held skills in reading people. He knew something about Morgan. I found it interesting that in true HUMINT style, he was asking questions that he seemed to know the answer to, something Helen had failed to do. The WOLF member in front of the monitor was reviewing footage from the entire morning that focused on Morgan, watching his every move including the expression on his face as he looked at me after my descent from the stage.

      ‘He approached me yesterday, warned me away from the conference. He said it was a national security thing and that I shouldn’t get involved.’

      ‘And yet, here you are,’ Tuso noted with a small grin.

      I nodded. ‘No one in government is going to tell me what I can and can’t do ever again.’ There was passion in my reply mostly because it was true.

      He clapped me on the back and beamed his 300-watt smile. ‘He’s a spy,’ Tuso noted as if in passing. ‘He paid for the conference using a government credit card registered to a building that doesn’t exist.’ I wouldn’t have expected Tuso to have financial connections, but was beginning to appreciate the level of sophistication of the group far exceeded what I would traditionally expect from a right-wing organisation.

      ‘The conference is for lay people,’ he was saying, ‘the hobbyists. People trying to find a cause, themselves, whatever. To be a WOLF means to be committed to action, to be an agent for change and to take charge of making that change happen. Usually we find only one or two of them at these events. Importantly, we are looking for those who truly understand what WOLF stands for. We are not the World Liberation Front, we are the White Liberation Front’.

      He watched me intently when he said it, measuring my reactions with an obvious skill that made me feel uncomfortable, even though I was confident with my body language control.

      ‘Like, no other races allowed?’ I asked, meeting his gaze.

      ‘Exactly!’ Tuso was animated. ‘None of the lesser races that steal, cheat and rape, destroying our communities and taking our jobs. Only those who are pure of blood and heart, who understand that it is not wrong for us to protect and value our heritage as ethnic minorities have for generations.’

      I nodded as he kept talking, though gave away just enough uncertainty that Tuso relaxed and clapped me on the shoulders. ‘Valen, I want you to come to a retreat, let me show you what we fight against and why. Are you interested?’

      ‘Yes,’ I replied simply.

      He clapped me on the back again. ‘Join me for dinner tonight. Upstairs at the bar, 7 o’clock.’ I smiled and did my best to look suitably impressed. I got the distinct impression that he was measuring me as much as I was measuring him, and his relaxed façade was just that, a mask he wore to hide his true feelings, motivations and intent.

      ‘Thank you so much, Mr Tuso,’ I managed.

      ‘Eran,’ he said. ‘You can call me Eran.’ I took another glance around the video surveillance area, memorising the faces of the WOLF members who operated the cameras as they were more likely to be trusted insiders. I saw no one who went even close to fitting the description of Edward or Jessica.

      As I headed back out into the auditorium, I looked around for Morgan and couldn’t see him. I felt no loyalty to him and had no regrets on confirming that he worked for the government. It was evident Tuso already had some inside knowledge on the kid, whose poor tradecraft had put himself in the spotlight. Still, on the off chance the group posed a physical danger to him, I wanted to warn him off, if such a thing were possible. I thought it far more likely that he would attempt to arrest me or something equally foolish.

      It took some time for me to get back to my seat, with attendees wanting to talk to the man who got one-on-one time with the head WOLF. I dutifully paid attention for the next couple of hours, interspersed with plenty of breaks where attendees were broken into small groups and profiled by the WOLF members. It was an incredibly professional methodology, seamless and invisible to the untrained eye. I was left with the strong impression that whoever designed the conference had a background in one of the intelligence agencies, which used a similar method for talent spotting during routine recruitment exercises. The notes being taken on each attendee were detailed and grew even more so throughout the day. I couldn’t help but be curious as to what mine would say.

      There was still no sign of Morgan as the day progressed. I thought momentarily about calling Helen or even the ASIO switchboard, to give them a warning or suggestion that one of their officers may have been injured. Ultimately though, it was their responsibility and I assumed any help I attempted to offer Helen would be met with hostility. It would only be fair given how I’d treated her at our last meeting.

      Content remained light-on throughout the day, with a lot of political posturing and bold claims of success but little in the way of anything but anecdotal evidence. I noticed Tuso watching me more than once. On one occasion, he was joined by a remarkably muscled, broad-shouldered woman who perfectly fitted the term hawkish, all intensity and purpose. The Hawk, as I decided to name her, looked at me with all the suspicion of a trained counter-intelligence operator, her dark eyes narrowed as she fixed me with a steady gaze. She wore a man’s suit and it fit her well, her hair cropped short in a military fashion that suited her smooth, attractive features. She had olive skin that suggested Middle Eastern origin, which I found odd given the narrative of the group. I made a note to not take her too lightly. There was something vaguely familiar about her and I held back on the temptation to snap a photo, worried at just how provocative that move would be. Every now and then the Hawk would direct one of the suited security operators in the room, distinctive due to their earpieces and matching dark suits and ties. They seemed to be mostly selected for their size rather than intelligence. Good if I was going to play chess against them, bad if it ended in a physical encounter.

      Those present seemed largely on board with the event, with only a handful of the 100 or so attendees leaving before the conclusion. A lot of the final session encouraged contact with the local WOLF members, regular meetings and commitment. Forms were passed around and filled out with pledges of that commitment. I noted multiple people reaching for credit cards. Financial commitment too, then.

      The day concluded much later than advertised. It was 1600hrs by the time I walked out of the auditorium and I was exhausted. Many of the attendees loitered in the auditorium, talking in small groups or waiting for one of the WOLF members to join them to talk more about the group, its plans and where to from here. I thought about staying to see if I could draw any information from the members who seemed to ignore me altogether, but ultimately decided to leave.

      Movies often portrayed surveillance detection as a lot of looking over your shoulder, then breaking into a run to avoid surveillance operators. In truth, counter-surveillance was a sophisticated piece of tradecraft that was very difficult to master. The last thing I wanted to do was flag to the WOLF members that I was a trained intelligence operator.

      At the second choke point in my return surveillance detection route, three individuals appeared that had been present at the first. The third choke point, a quick turn located within the Myer Centre that was central to the Queen Street Mall, confirmed I was being followed as all three followers came through. They seemed to only number three, dressed in suits with earpieces that immediately made me assume they worked for the Hawk despite the black rather than white shirts. I hadn’t seen these individuals during the day but it was an otherwise almost identical outfit and they were all burly, muscled men who looked like security guards. This was no professional team too, as no surveillance operator would wear earpieces or the same clothes as each other. They certainly didn’t all pass-through choke points, heads pivoting from side to side like carrion birds seeking their next meal.

      That left me with a dilemma. Should I take them back to my hotel, showing them where I was staying? Or try to lose them, potentially showing I may be a threat, more trained and aware than they or their boss may have realised.

      I passed out of the Myer Centre and was walking up the Queen Street Mall when the choice was made for me. As I passed the exit from the underground bus exchange, a huge amount of kids emerged, talking, joking and laughing. They immediately and unintentionally separated