did meet at breakfast, Wallace was down first. He thought he would like to see Kalim before he left, he was apparently heading for Bandung by an early flight and was returning that evening…by which time Wallace hoped to have landed in Australia.
Kalim was talking to someone in the lobby before he came in and saw Wallace sitting at the table.
‘That was one of my colleagues,’ he explained. He eyed Wallace keenly as he sat down and asked if he had a hangover. Wallace said he had and he grinned broadly. They had their breakfast and then finally said their farewells.
‘I may possibly be in Europe, and London, in about six months,’ Kalim said. ‘I’ll look you up maybe, what hotel do you normally use?’
Wallace didn’t have a normal hotel as it happened, but he named one that Clive Passay said that he frequently stayed in. Wallace didn’t know where it was, nor did he want to. He felt he had said too much already and he wasn’t going to give away any possible hotels where he may stay.
‘Very well – au revoir,’ Kalim said as he picked up his brief case.
‘You have an early flight?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think I have enough time. Goodbye, Mr Wallace.’
Wallace watched him enter the cab outside and then returned to go to his room. Life would be dull without Kalim for the next few hours, but Wallace would be very relieved when he was on the midday flight to Sydney.
Wallace picked up the telephone, it was late morning.
‘Your car for the airport has arrived, Mr Wallace,’ said a voice.
Wallace arrived in the foyer; it was Alex Miller the Commercial Attaché from the embassy. Miller was sitting in one of the seats idly scanning one of the English language newspapers that lay about. He rose to his feet as Wallace arrived.
‘G’day,’ he said which would have proved to anyone that he was an Australian. He indicated the cases. ‘Shall I take this one?’
They carried the cases to the car which was outside the main entrance; it was an ordinary vehicle, not an embassy limousine. After Wallace had settled outstanding accounts for some odd phone calls and drinks with reception the car set off for the airport. It occurred to Wallace as he paid the bill that his telephone had been reconnected without any fuss, maybe that was the way to go, just feign complete indifference and they’ll try it on with somebody else.
The sun was high in the sky as they set off in the crowded city streets. As they turned right at the second intersection he glanced through the window and gave a double take that would have done credit to a Hollywood comedy. He saw Kalim who was standing on the pavement talking to two other men. As the embassy car approached them the other two entered a car standing by the kerb. The car drew away after the embassy car had passed them and as it entered the traffic stream it followed them briefly. Kalim then entered the building behind him. It was one with an impressive facade and was probably built during the days of Dutch colonisation. As he entered the building several men came out all wearing police uniforms.
Wallace sat back in puzzlement, he was sure Kalim had told him he was leaving the hotel to catch a flight, what was he doing there? Then he dismissed it, he knew more than anyone else that plans could change, maybe Kalim had to register with the police before taking a flight to another island. Wallace watched the car containing the two men but it was left behind when they passed through traffic lights and a car coming from the right jumped the gun and prevented anyone else in the nearside lane coming through.
The embassy vehicle reached the airport without mishap. Wallace enjoyed the journey, from what he had seen of Alex Miller he quite liked him, Miller was a pleasant fellow and they had much in common. They exchanged farewells at the Qantas desk and then Wallace sat in the departure lounge. He could not dismiss feelings of unease and was immensely relieved when the call came to board.
The sweetest sight that he had seen, for what seemed like an eternity, was the coastline of Australia when it appeared below. For some time the landscape below was unhospitable, being brownish desert style terrain, but what the hell, it was home. On arrival at the airport in Sydney Wallace was ecstatic, he entered the first bar he could find and promptly ordered himself a beer. He was home!
Chapter 6
'Alan, I understand you are to be part of the Foreign Minister’s entourage next months when he attends that conference in London.’
‘That’s correct,’ Alan Kelsey replied. ‘I’m part of the security detail. Apparently there is a security scare in London at the present time, what with terror threats and fears of another London bombing.’
‘Yes, that is so,’ Francis Burton nodded in agreement. ‘In addition there are to be discussions with the British Government on the question of naval frigates or destroyers, some of our vessels are near to their use by date and will eventually have to be replaced.’
‘Yes, I had heard that was on the agenda.’
‘This is one of the reasons why I suggested you be included, with your experience in the R.A.N. we shall be killing two birds, security and naval knowledge.’
‘Thank you for your confidence in my abilities,’ replied Kelsey with a trace of sarcasm and Burton chuckled and spread out his hands. Prior to his joining ASIO Alan Kelsey had been a lieutenant-commander in Naval Intelligence in the Australian Navy. When the navy began to run out of ships, and money, many of its personnel had been declared redundant. Kelsey had sensed that advancement would be problematical so he had taken redundancy and had promptly been snapped up by ASIO.
‘David McKay is already there, as you know, he has been there for about three months. He is ostensibly the home correspondent on one of our dailies in London. We have another security detachment on call for the negotiations we shall shortly be holding with Indonesia and Taranga on the question of deep sea oil exploration in the Arafura Sea. So we have much on our plate at present.’
‘Yes, we’re pretty thin on the ground at present.’
‘Do you remember Murray Craddock?’
‘Will I ever forget him,’ snorted Kelsey.
‘We never did find him did we?’ said Burton. ‘How long ago was it the bastard defected and disappeared?’
‘Oh…what would it be, nearly twelve months ago now? He doesn’t seem to have surfaced in Moscow, so heaven knows where he is now.’
‘Well I think there’s a possibility we may have found him,’ rejoined Francis Burton dryly, referring to a note on his desk. ‘Or at least, we do have a clue as to his whereabouts.’
‘We do? Where?’
‘We believe he’s run to ground in England, and that he’s been there since he did a runner from here.’
‘England! Good God!’
‘Well he does have English antecedents, as I suppose many of us do if we go back far enough,’ Burton ruminated. ‘But his final destination must have been planned long before he finally made a run for it, with everything geared for a hasty departure.’
‘What led us to England?’
‘We’ve been lucky,’ commented Burton. ‘A member of the Russian embassy staff in London committed an indiscretion and was ordered home in disgrace. He had no wish to return to Mother Russia, especially with a cloud over his head which would have obviated further foreign postings, so he opted to defect.’
‘Bill Wainwright and the rest of MI 5 must be cock-a-hoop.’
‘He is and they are,’ Burton gave a snort of amusement. ‘Bill and his team are sorting out what this Russki brought with him, obviously the bloke thought he’d better bring something of value to stop them throwing him back! Bill was on the blower yesterday, apparently one of the files this bloke brought out with him indicates that Murray Craddock is somewhere in the Midlands working in a bookshop owned by a member of the