Any Means Necessary. Shane Britten
Читать онлайн книгу.
already crowded share houses and occasionally on the streets.
I did my best to show the right emotions at the right time. It wasn’t difficult really – it was a sad story. I withheld the anger that always struck me in similar situations. I’d seen it in Africa, the Middle-East and throughout Asia, people being pushed to increasingly radical ideas due to falling on hard times. They needed faith to explain their poor situation and dream of something better, in this life or the next.
Groups like WOLF and individuals like Tuso were like vultures, preying on people while they were vulnerable, weak, looking for hope. It was how suicide bombers, generations of young soldiers and idealistic zealots were created all around the world. To see it happening in Australia so blatantly made me furious.
I realised she was waiting for my answer and smiled apologetically. ‘I was with the Army,’ I said softly, with my rehearsed cause rolling easily off my tongue. ‘Afghanistan, Iraq, both times. I felt betrayed when I saw we were fighting for money and oil, seeing my friends die for the greed of politicians and liars. I guess I’ve been searching for something meaningful ever since. All of this terrorism stuff has come about because we keep getting involved in the affairs of other countries and letting foreigners into our country. If I can be part of a group that changes that, I see it as my duty.’
Amy put a hand on my forearm and gave a reassuring smile. ‘I think we have come to the right place.’ She turned back to her boyfriend, giving me a chance to notice the WOLF members paying particularly close attention to what was being said. Two of them were paying me unusually high levels of interest, heightened after I said the word ‘army’. I smiled at them and turned to face the front, waiting for Tuso to appear and continuing to scan for any sign of Edward or Jessica. I was all set to ask the nearest WOLF member if there were any famous people that were part of the group as a pretext to try to get close to discussing either Edward or Jessica, when I was interrupted by the arrival of the head WOLF.
Tuso’s arrival was heralded with music and applause, which rapidly rose to rapturous volume as everyone stood up, cheering. I joined in, feeling the energy in the room and finding it surprising. There was very little information available about the man and he was not a publicly well-known figure, but here he was being treated like a rock star. Whistles and cheers continued as he walked back and forth across the stage, waving his arms and enjoying the fixation of the crowd.
‘Hello everyone!’ said the lean, well-dressed Tuso, singling out a few people in the crowd for eye contact, waves and thumbs up. He was quite the showman. ‘I’m a simple man with a simple dream,’ he started, pacing the stage with the confidence of a seasoned performer. The crowd was awe-struck, silent.
‘That we can build a world where we look after our neighbours, the brothers and sisters here in this room. Where our energy is devoted to saving our city, our country, our race, ensuring no one can stop us. Where companies exist only because we need them and want them, not to serve the greed of their foreign owners. Where children are taught the value of our lives is contained in the stories of our forefathers and the lessons they have shown us about the failure of multiculturalism, the way unrestrained immigration is destroying our economy and how our crime rates increase with every new immigrant allowed into the country.’
Something had caught my attention and it wasn’t Tuso’s oration. Some of the WOLF members were studying the crowd and taking detailed notes, murmuring to each other and gesturing towards some of the group members with either nods or shakes of their head. As Tuso continued, I realised what was happening. The leader was listing a range of causes while his workers were carefully taking note of which causes appealed to which attendees. They could narrow down the preferred member list based on who supported the causes true to the group and who was on the fringe of what the group stood for and expected.
The morning continued much the same way, with Tuso talking about the virtues of the world we would all create together, bringing what seemed to me to be pre-selected attendees to the stage to share their own stories. It was a masterful speech with clear racist undertones tempered by a more politically correct tone than I expected. As I glanced around, I couldn’t see anyone who seemed too put out or upset with the topics being discussed. I was the only one not staring at the man on the stage.
Tuso was compelling, a skilled and charismatic orator that had a personal style that was warm, welcoming. ‘You, my friend,’ he called out, and it was a moment before I realised he was talking to me, my survey of the group halted by the large number of heads that turned to look at me. My blood ran cold.
‘Come on up,’ he beckoned with a beaming smile.
I stood slowly, uncomfortable with the attention that had shifted to me. I moved down the aisle towards the stage, climbing a few steps until I stood alongside him. He was taller than me by a few inches, his face animated.
‘Tell us your story!’ He handed me a small mic. I repeated almost word for word what I had said to Amy, adding emotion and feeling to my cause, particularly when talking about comrades dying.
‘My friends, let us welcome Valen! This man has endured the horrors of his friends being killed by Muslims, the worst of those who threaten our very existence. Thank you for sharing your story.’ He embraced me though I had stiffened somewhat – I hadn’t told him my name. ‘Come and see me in the break,’ he murmured mid-hug.
I nodded with an appropriately awed smile, descending the steps and moving back to my seat to thunderous applause and plenty of pats on the back. One face snarled at me on the way past and I almost laughed. Morgan, the ASIO kid, was in the crowd pretending to be a would-be member. He was doing a poor job at blending in, wearing a suit and tie. Some habits were hard to break, I guess.
The morning progressed into a slideshow of what the group had accomplished around the world – protests, petitions, large group numbers and claimed policy change were all mentioned. There was no hint or suggestion of violence or underhanded tactics.
Soon enough, it was the morning break and, as requested, I headed towards the stage and the waiting Tuso. Morgan attempted to intercept me but got cut off by a gaggle of excited attendees. It was just as well as I wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn’t to do with my distaste for the kid but more for operational security reasons. I didn’t know how he had registered, with which name or whether he had somehow compromised his identity as an ASIO officer, so I didn’t want to be associated with him. It avoided the risk of his potential compromise becoming mine.
Tuso removed his earpiece and microphone and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leading me past the stage curtain to the preparation area. It was a lot more sophisticated than I’d imagined, with monitors displaying footage from an enormous array of cameras around the auditorium. A group of WOLF members were repeating what some of those on the floor were doing in person – monitoring the crowd for which cause appealed to which person.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Tuso gestured to the technical set-up. I nodded and met his intense gaze. ‘But why?’ I asked.
‘Why indeed,’ he replied, walking me further out the back. ‘We are agents of change, Valen. Not everyone supports that change and not everyone is willing to go to the extent required to make change, true change, happen. In fact, some want to fight against our change. This is important to help us know who believes in our cause – truly believes – and who are the tourists looking for a hobby.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘A hobby? Bored people looking for something to fill their time?’
‘Exactly and it happens more than you’d think. People say the words of commitment and resolve and then want to check out when the going gets tough. Add to that,’ he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘we are monitored by those fearful of the change we represent.’
I frowned. ‘The government?’
He nodded sagely, stepping in front of a bank of monitors and pointing out an individual. ‘Do you know him?’ I leaned closer, taking a moment to look at the image on the screen. It was Morgan.
‘Not really,’ I replied, ‘though he works for the government.’
Tuso