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CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty one

Twenty two

Twenty three

Twenty four

Twenty five

Twenty six

Twenty seven

Twenty eight

Twenty nine

Thirty

Thirty one

Thirty two

Thirty three

Thirty four

ONE

The single line moved slowly to the desk where passengers’ exchanged their passports for the ship’s security card and had their photograph taken. It was awkward for some, pushing a carry-on with a foot while they held the passport and a complimentary glass of champagne in their hands.

Emmie – Marilyn Elizabeth, ME, get it? – brunette, medium height, early 40’s was ahead of John Order and sipping from her flute when the thick-set man who had moved out of the queue for some reason rudely pushed back in, jolting her without apology.

Order opened his mouth to protest, noting the sharp look perhaps of recognition the man gave him, but checked his words as Emmie gently shook her head. We’re sailing together, she seemed to signal, let’s not have an early falling out with someone.

Accompanied by a plump pleasant stewardess, their documentation complete, they were led to their cabin, or suite as they now were called, where Emmie expressed delight at the bedroom, sitting room, open balcony, walk-in wardrobe and fully equipped bathroom. Their luggage awaited them and the arrival of their butler, a young Sri Lankan, who opened the free bottle of prosecco, completed her joy.

It was farewelling the butler into the corridor the suite door opposite opened and the rude man from registration emerged and with another searching look at Order took himself back toward Reception.

John Order, Speaker of the ACT Legislative Assembly, now with a comfortable majority in his electorate thanks to diligent representation and careful cultivation of his voters, normally would not have been surprised at such recognition. His high position in the legislature, years of service and yes, an unfortunate involvement with several bodies, both dead and alive, had provided him with some local public notoriety.

That such should have spread to a cruise liner on a two week voyage to Hong Kong however, was a matter of comment.

“I think I’ve been spotted,” he said to Emmie, wrenching the balcony’s sliding door open, oddly flattered nevertheless.

“It won’t spoil our holiday, will it, John?” Emmie asked apprehensively.

“I don’t see why. It’s only one person an’ for privacy reasons there’s no passenger lists anymore, so people can’t be identified.”

The absence of passenger lists was an inconvenience in trying to place people you had met, but also offered anonymity for the unmarried like Emmie and John Order travelling together. There always was Google, of course, and in his experience people used it so some gossip still got around. And possibly there were other people from Canberra aboard.

“If it gets too bad however, we can always stay here in the suite,” Order murmured quietly into Emmie’s ear as they enjoyed the sea breeze on the balcony looking out over Sydney Harbour. “The bed looks very comfortable.”

The jab was gentle and accompanied by the question: “Who do you think recognised you?”

Order explained and Emmie responded: “Ah, Mr. Rude.”

And the christening was complete.

* * *

The ship made its leisurely way up Australia’s east coast in good weather stopping at Brisbane and Cairns before transiting Torres Strait and the Arafura Sea and manoeuvring through the numerous islands of Indonesia to the Philippines.

Emmie improved her tan, becoming more desirable day by day in Order’s eyes. For his part he risked severe sunburn so kept himself covered during their long baking’s on deck and gradually as the voyage progressed overcame his worries about leaving the Parliament in charge of his feisty deputy Wendy Wonder or Wendy the Wonder Woman, WWW or three W’s hence VW for short. It was the winter recess after all and most MLA’s were away so mischief would wait and the Clerk could be relied upon to curb any independent behaviour of the Deputy Speaker. On a personal note both he and his friend were both out of town, so no point in raising gossip there.

They saw nothing of Mr. Rude, either during the day or at night in various restaurants or at entertainments. Once returning unexpectedly in the morning for a forgotten hat, Order had sympathy for Rose, the Filipino maid who serviced this block of suites, when he saw the chaos of Rude’s accommodation through the open door.

A visit to Cebu, its Taoist temple and Fort San Pedro then overnight to Manila, Intramuros and Rizal Park, tried for a Jai Alai game, rode in a jeepney and a practice shopping run for Hong Kong by Emmie.

Order thought the commotion next morning in the corridor was more than should be expected from disembarking passengers, who the night before had placed their colour-coded heavy luggage outside their doors.

Investigation revealed officers in summer dress whites with impressive-looking yellow epaulettes, a bewildered butler and a distraught Filipino maid.

Mr. Rude had disappeared.

His bed remained turned down, pyjamas neatly folded and the evening chocolate still sitting on the pillow. The sliding door to the balcony was closed but not, to a discerning eye with the Asian sun glinting upon it, locked.

With other passengers in adjoining suites Emmie and Order were interviewed without result. There was confusion as to when Rude had disappeared and how.

Had he been out on the town in Manila and not returned? Had he returned and fallen overboard en route to Hong Kong before going to bed?

The first question was quickly cleared up. The ship’s security pass which had led to the original rudeness had been checked back on board. The gap was between the return and Rose next morning finding an unoccupied suite when she arrived to tidy.

Eventually everyone was allowed ashore and they spent several days touring and efficiently pillaging the city’s shops. It was Emmie’s first visit and Order enjoyed indulging her. The only concern was if QANTAS would allow the extra baggage on board their aircraft for return to Australia.

TWO

The winter break over, the Assembly resumed its legislative routine and Speaker Order also his association with his diplomatic friend, who too had been overseas enjoying the European summer. The affair with Emmie continued as well and despite his wish to establish a more permanent basis Emmie insisted upon maintaining the comfortable informal relationship they enjoyed. That Order wanted more surprised even himself, but he decided to be thankful for small mercies …

Emmie’s work as a freelance graphic designer was irregular and she spent most of her inactive time reading newspapers looking for part-time jobs.

She was thus better and earlier placed than John Order, swamped at the beginning of the session with the minutia of government, to see the local news report weeks after they returned home.

“It’s him!” Emmie declared in an excited phone call.

Liz, Order’s middle-aged efficient secretary, knew nothing of Mr. Rude on the cruise and hadn’t drawn her boss’s attention to the appeal.

Police seek help in murder inquiry asked the headline, which was followed by a full-face photograph of Mr. Rude.

“But this is impossible,” Order claimed to his friend the laconic Detective Inspector Gabby Williams, tapping the newspaper below the phone. “Unless he’s risen from the dead.”

Fortunately the House was not yet sitting so Order could devote some time to Williams and the ever-silent Sergeant Shanks at the visitor’s round table in his office.

“You’re sure this was the man you saw on the boat, John?” The scepticism in his voice palpable.

“Positive,” he replied emphatically, thinking ship, wondering if he was catching the policeman’s monosyllabic replies and if he should introduce Emmie as a backup witness.

“He was known as Creighton Wolf on the ship,” said Order, remembering the excited discussion at the door of the man’s suite.

“So who was he really?”

“Walter Scott. It’s in the paper.”

Or Creighton Wolf or both, thought Order.

“So why was he murdered?”

“Not sure. Possibly embezzlement.”

“That’s not life threatening,” said Order, thinking of bankers and lawyers.

“Depends who you’ve embezzled from,” Williams replied stoically.

“So he steals money from the wrong people perhaps an’ does a runner, then fakes his disappearance,” Order conjectured aloud. “But why come back after all the effort an’ if your life was in danger?”

“If it’s him.”

“His passport’s either still on the ship or with the Hong Kong police, which would confirm his identity. The manifest will show anyone else from Canberra in case there was someone aboard wanting to kill him.” The term hit-man seemed too dramatic.

“Not necessarily from Canberra, John. This is hardly Capone’s Chicago.”

Wolf’s presence on the ship and his disappearance no longer was in question, Order decided, after Gabby Williams had departed to check on the passport and manifest. And he thought he knew how it was done. All he needed was Emmie’s confirmation of a couple of details.

“D’you remember on which side of the ship we docked in Manila an’ Hong Kong?” he asked her that evening dining at their favourite Italian trattoria.

“We were wharf-side,” Emmie said, showing off her newfound nautical knowledge. “We watched the dancers from our balcony when we arrived in Manila and there was a band playing in Hong Kong. Why?”

“Because Wolf could have disembarked from his balcony on the other side of the ship at either port while we were all distracted by the entertainment.”

“Jumped overboard into the harbour?”

“No. Slid down strong ropes to a waiting launch. I recall thinking our deck wasn’t all that high from the sea, not like those two thousand passengers or more floating hotels. Remember outside the restaurant the sea looked about two foot below the portholes?”

“But it wasn’t dark in Manila and we arrived in daylight in Hong Kong.”

“We did have a rainstorm as we arrived in Manila, didn’t we? Blotted out everything, I think. Maybe he used it as cover.”

“I wouldn’t forget the storm, but surely someone would have seen him?”

“If they did an’ providing they were not from the ship, why care? Just think a crazy European perhaps. I’m sure he went over the side. The balcony door wasn’t locked an’ I’ll bet one of the rails is bent a little from his weight.”

“But the rope – ” Emmie began, placing her fork on her plate.

“If he doubled it so someone below held both ends then when he got down they pulled one end and the whole lot came down – no evidence!”

“How would he manage without a passport?”

“In any of those teeming Asian ports he’d find another, particularly as he’d obviously arranged matters in advance. But why, after all the preparation, why did he come back?”

“I’ve no idea, John, but I can see you’re taking another unhealthy interest like times before. Leave it to the police.”

“Maybe he expected to be arrested upon arrival,” Order ruminated. “So jumped.”

“John!”

Fortunately the dessert arrived.

THREE

“Plausible,” muttered Williams when Order explained how Wolf had got off the ship then grudgingly acknowledged the man was whom Order claimed he was. “The Hong Kong police have the passport.”

A concession to Order for his help in the original identification the policeman confirmed he had now held a British document in the name of Walter Scott, but Williams was not giving out more information.

“Police business, John,” he stated for probably the hundredth time in their long association.

The media provided a few extra points of background. Scott had checked in for three nights at one of the high-rise hotels on Northbourne Avenue, built years before when Canberra underwent a dramatic and expensive super growth. Some were currently converting to units, although it was claimed the demand for these often restricted living spaces also was in excess to need. The technology now called for to drive government and business in the National Capital didn’t require anything, far less humans, to go home to anywhere at night.

Someone had leaked Walter Scott had been stabbed to death in his hotel room, although the reported blue and white police tape blocking off the room and briefly the entire floor and police cars downstairs made the site, if not the method, obvious.

Someone too looked up the theft charge and only could find a $30,000 claim had been made by an unknown person.

“Nothing makes sense, Liz,” Order fumed, breaking off from their review of his weekly appointment’s diary to address his concerns.

“Why would a mature-aged man take off overseas an’ assume a false identity for a piddling thirty grand, an amount people might steal from their employer to play poker machines? An’ why would he come back even under an assumed name to where he could be recognised an’ murdered?”

“Homesick, perhaps?” Liz was not really interested.

Order was preparing a tart rebuke when the thought came to him.

“Unless he came back for something he couldn’t take with him?” And worth dying for, he wondered, as Liz impatiently pulled him back to diary duty.

With sittings beginning the next day after the mid-year break Mr. Speaker Order had no time for further conjecture.

Everyone was keen to get on with their parliamentary duties, which meant enthusiastic shouting across the Chamber at opponents. If specific criticisms over the recess were not remembered in detail, the inability to fully answer the attacks through the media at the time had built up a full head of aggrieved steam from all sides.

Order had his work cut out in Question Time restraining his government colleagues from provoking opposition members then calling upon them to be ejected from the Chamber for being ‘highly disorderly’.

As Speaker, Order took his job seriously and impartially. His role was not to act as the Government’s referee and he tried to avoid any show of bias. It always was hard work but particularly difficult the first week back from a long recess and he was pleased to vacate the Chair to his deputy after the tumultuous session.

And pleased to return to the matter in hand.

He wasn’t forgetting his primary duties he convinced himself as he climbed the stairs to his office, but he would have to be careful. His political life had featured too many dead bodies, so his friends and staff had become concerned about what they saw as an unhealthy interest.

If Walter Scott, Mr. Rude, Creighton Wolf, had come back for something he could not have taken with him, Order conjectured resuming his mind-track as he inattentively watched the debate in the Chamber with the sound turned down, what was it?

Someone, a woman perhaps, or an item? And does someone else have whatever Scott came back for?

It seemed the most logical explanation, with the Hong Kong visit simply to smooth the ground for the ultimate disappearance. Thus the financial theft of such a trivial amount could be seed money to prepare the way and, Order realised with a pleasure like fitting in a piece of jigsaw, also explained the brief return to Canberra if not the unexpected death.

Because if the return here was brief it presupposed whomever or whatever was being collected would not take long, would probably be waiting. What had gone wrong?

The House rose at five-thirty. There seemed to be no advanced planning during the recesses for the legislation which subsequently clogged the Parliament at the end of the sessions. Emmie was out with her friend, Ally, to discuss a prospective job so Order had a free evening.

The office of Creighton Wolf and Associates, Order didn’t know what this meant but doubted there were any, was in the small business precinct of Deakin, tucked away in the jumble of cul-de-sacs and narrow streets lined with two storey buildings often with For Rent signs outside.

Predictably the rooms on the second floor were locked. Order was peering inside at a reception desk when a young woman from one of the IT company offices which it seemed filled the rest of the floor asked if she could help.

“All locked up,” Order said unnecessarily.

“Has been for weeks,” the young girl said. “Maybe he’s gone bust.”

Clearly she didn’t read the newspapers and Order thought he’d take a chance.

“Hope not, I’ve business with him.”

“Good, Sas needs the money.”

“Sas?”

“His receptionist. She’s a single mum an’ her two jobs barely make ends meet.”

“Two must be tough,” Order said sympathetically, “with a child.”

“Not that she was busy here, but the Newton Tavern made up for it.”

“Barmaid,” she explained to his silent question. A horn blared impatiently. “There’s my lift, must be off.”

The Newton Tavern was not in the most desirable of Canberra’s suburbs and the surrounding shopping centre did nothing to lift the rundown impression. Several shops were shuttered, others with the exception of the supermarket and a takeaway were looking empty.

Order removed his coat and tie placing them in the boot. These precautions were hardly necessary: most of the tradesmen had gone home and the watering hole was not popular with suits, however the music was louder than he would have liked for a conversation.

Sas was easily identified. Apart from a bearded man, probably the owner, she was the only person serving. A woman running to fat, shapeless and a tired full face which looked like it expected nothing more from life than she had already received.

Order stood at the end of the bar and, waiting to catch her eye, asked for a beer. It was that sort of place.

“You work for Creighton Wolf?” he stated when Sas delivered the middy.

“Did,” she said sourly, taking his money. At least she read the newspapers and probably had been interviewed by the police already.

“Business good?” he asked.

“You a cop? The press?”

He had never done this before but Order placed a fifty dollar note on the counter.

“Neither,” was all he said.

“Go an’ take a seat over there,” Sas replied, simultaneously pocketing the money and pointing to a quiet area of the room. “I get a fifteen minute break about now, I’ll just tell Joel.”

She joined him with what looked like a glass of lemon squash.

“What d’you want?” she asked.

And Order wasn’t sure. Any questioning he’d done was some time back, usually in Opposition, at committee meetings or in the annual Estimates, often with prepared briefs.

“What was the nature of Wolf’s work?” he asked and realised how stilted it sounded.

“Why d’you want to know?”