The Timor Man. Kerry B Collison

on my way through.”

      “Touching base, so to speak,” the civilian added.

      The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. Must be discreet! He could understand this sort of reasoning and, although uneasy, he was pleased that this senior officer had made the time to drop in.

      “Can I offer any assistance while you are here. Maybe dinner tonight?” the officer offered.

      “Very kind of you, Peter,” Anderson answered using Wilson’s first name, “however I plan to leave for Singapore tonight. Maybe a rain-check?”

      “Of course, of course, John,” both now relaxed with each other’s use of Christian names, the Attaché considerably relieved that there was no official demand being made on his office.

      “I thought that I should report in just so they are able to keep track of me down South. You know how they are about our travelling abroad, Peter.”

      The Colonel nodded knowingly. He called the Warrant Officer. “Have a signal, Warrant. Take it down for my guest please and dispatch the message by routine. What classification John?” asked the Attaché.

      “Oh, just send it as a standard restricted notification to my department that I have dropped in and am departing today for Singapore.” Anderson said, now enjoying the discomfort the military duo were experiencing.

      “Would you care to write the message yourself, sir?” the Warrant Officer inquired, not knowing the guest’s official designation..

      “Surely,” Anderson responded, taking his pen, reaching for the Colonel’s blank pad to draft his message.

      Minutes later the simple message was being encrypted by the registry clerk also on the third floor for obvious security reasons and, within the hour, the brief and enigmatic signal was being read by the Deputy Intelligence Director in Canberra.

      Anderson departed for Singapore later that day on the MSA flight, inter-connecting with the Cathay Pacific service into Hong Kong. There he briefed the Resident Officer who, due to the nature of the Colony’s status, decided that it would be inconvenient to accommodate their activities in the High Commission.

      John Anderson went immediately to The Lodge upon his return to the Australian Capital. The Prime Minister had sat silently, listening to how the mechanisms now being put into place would resolve the looming crisis.

      ‘Or, God help me, even bring down the government!’ he worried Looking out through the row of pines partly obscuring the fine view of the well planned city he felt the dread of being alone, unable to impart or discuss the secrets for which he had become the nation’s keeper and he knew that, whatever the outcome, lives would be lost and few would ever know.

      The Prime Minister also understood, and accepted, that he must live with the knowledge that it was on his authority and his alone that the order had been given.

      ‘Is it the politics or the burden of responsibility that makes one age prematurely in this job?’ he wondered momentarily and, not wishing to dwell any further on the possible demise of others, turned back to the papers he had been working on when interrupted by Anderson’s visit.

      “God save the Prime Minister,” he muttered rubbing his weary eyes.