Direct Action. J D Svenson
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I want to know is, Premier, how are you going with arrests?’
Robert looked up, reddening even though he knew no-one could have possibly seen. Arrests. Yes.
‘Yes quite. Carl,’ he said, gruffly, ‘why isn’t the Police Minister here? Any updates on that?’
‘Ah, he’s at the Sydney control centre I believe, Premier,’ said Carl, blanching. ‘I’ll just see if I can …’ He pulled out his mobile and searched for the number. Michaela chipped in, leaning towards the phone.
‘Good afternoon, Ministers. Michaela Flanagan. Deputy Premier. I’m so glad you raised that,’ she purred. ‘I understand the Federal Police are intending to charge the perpetrators – when they’re found – with terrorism. It seems that it would be the AFP that is coordinating arrests then, wouldn’t it? More a Federal matter?’
There was a pause.
‘My instructions are that the MoU with the AFP relies on full cooperation from NSW Police,’ the Federal Minister for Resources replied. ‘Those being the authority present on the ground.’
‘Yes of course, Minister,’ Robert said, glaring at Michaela. She was always just that little bit too bold. One of the security detail approached the table as a light started to flash on the phone.
‘Police Minister now on line two,’ he said, nodding at the console.
‘Oh, oh goodness,’ Carl said, putting his phone down. ‘If we just click on that he’ll join the call …?’
‘Should do, sir.’
Michaela held a hand up. ‘We’ll get to the Police Minister in a moment,’ she continued smoothly. Robert stared at her. You didn’t keep the Police Minister waiting at a time like this. Unless you were Michaela Flanagan, evidently. ‘But first, if we could just ask one thing before we do – the matter of the power plants themselves,’ she said, glancing at Robert. ‘Perhaps Carl as Energy Minister could fill us in. How long until we can get power restored?’
Restored? Why hadn’t he thought of that. Of course that was the most important thing. Yes. How about how to get the power back?
‘Thank you, Michaela, certainly,’ began Carl. ‘Look, you know, I won’t lie. This is not ideal. I’d say we’ve lost at least 7K megawatt hours of electricity capacity. I mean there’s a bunch of renewables and a few pussy gas-fired plants about the place, but these babies – the three that got hit, that’s Eraring, Liddell and Bayswater – that’s a fuck of a lot of power, if you know what I’m saying. Love to hear about the chances of getting it from the other states by the way,’ he said, leaning into the microphone while holding Michaela in a look. ‘Because right now that’s all we’ve got. Even a national rationing scheme might be necessary.’ They nodded at each other and he leant back. ‘If I could be so bold.’
‘And we can assume,’ Michaela said, taking her turn to lean forward, ‘that the Commonwealth will trigger the company’s rights under the Terrorism Insurance Act, am I right? Make the necessary declarations and so on? Any news on that at your end?’
‘Ms Flanagan,’ said the Minister for Home Affairs, pleasantly, ‘I don’t follow.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ Michaela said. ‘The Terrorism Insurance Act. Clapped-out old thing you guys passed a few years ago, seems it might come into its own now. Provides that the Commonwealth will foot the bill for any costs from terrorism incidents excluded by an insurance contract. Under the usual terrorism ouster, I mean.’
‘Oh that,’ said the Minister, in a tone that sounded to Robert like she hadn’t understood a word. ‘Yes I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. We need those arrests first though, don’t we. And as we have said, all the resources of the Commonwealth are available in that regard.’
‘Thank you, Minister,’ Michaela said. It was like watching a rat bare its teeth. ‘That is good to know. And let us know if you need anything from us to make that declaration.’ She sipped on the glass of white wine at her elbow.
‘Of …?’
‘Of a declared terrorist incident under your Act,’ said Michaela, rolling her eyes at Carl. ‘To trigger the reinsurance. Look – I’m sure Treasury can fill you in. Josh. He’s coming on soon isn’t he? He’s the responsible Minister.’
‘I know who my own Treasurer is, Ms Flanagan. Thank you.’
‘Yes of course. It’s just that if it’s less than ten billion dollars damage to infrastructure, your Act provides that the Federal Government steps in and covers the cost the insurer won’t. Because of the usual terrorism exemptions in the insurance contracts, of course.’
‘Presumably we have a discretion as well,’ said Julie, dryly. ‘As to whether we want to.’
‘Well, of course you do, Minister, but I can’t imagine why—’
‘Ah – thank you for that careful summary, Michaela,’ said Barton. ‘As Federal Minister for Resources I’m with you one hundred per cent. One hundred per cent. And I’m sure Josh as Treasurer will be too, and Energy. Singing from one song sheet there, no question. We need to get those plants up and running again as soon as possible.’
‘You’ve got our agreement there,’ said Michaela. ‘Haven’t they, Robert? She was looking at him. ‘Robert?’
‘What? Oh,’ he said, putting his phone back face down on the table. ‘Sorry. Yes.’ Then he glanced at Michaela and spoke pointedly into the microphone. ‘Especially at the prices the other states are charging for their electricity right now.’ Two could play this game. ‘See what you can do about that.’
‘You give me some arrests,’ said the Minister for Home Affairs, ‘and I’ll give you whatever you want. Can we have your Police Minister on the call now, please?’
‘Sure – oh,’ said Michaela. The light had stopped flashing. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Sorry, chaps,’ the Federal Minister for Resources chimed in. ‘Just had a text from Josh. He’s a bit tied up at the moment, he says. Can we reschedule? Say this afternoon?’
Robert kept his face carefully expressionless, hoping frantically that it meant at least this excruciating conversation would be over, and also that now he could call Colin, which he would do as soon as everyone rang off.
‘Just going to make a phone call,’ he said when they did, smiling at Carl cheerfully. ‘Won’t be a sec.’
He stepped out into the hallway but there was a security detail snoozing at one end. Damn.
‘Um, sorry, Carl, need my bags for a minute,’ he said, as the State Minister for Energy took up deep conversation with Michaela on the white leather couch. ‘Can you tell me which one’s mine?’
‘Oh, sure, Bob – you’re last one down the hall. Think Damo already put your bags in there, mate.’ He grinned and turned back to Michaela.
‘Ah, great, thanks.’
The wood-panelled hallway seemed to go on forever but at last he found the room, and his two matching leather suitcases were in it. The room was tiny and had an awful lavender and white lace bedspread, but it was private. He shut the door and pressed Colin’s speed dial on his phone, praying for reception. Colin answered on the second ring. At the sound of his lover’s chipper Cockney, Robert’s body suffused with warmth.
‘Ahh, darlin’,’ said Colin. ‘Bout fookin’ time I talked to you. How are you?’
‘Oh,’ Robert said, dabbing at his eyes, which had stupidly dampened. ‘All the better for speaking to you. Is everything okay?’
‘Oh yeah, you know – they’re all fookin’ loonie round here and won’t let us go anywhere, but I’ve got me paints so I’m – I’m alright. You?’
‘Oh