Holus Bolus

By James Garton

President Michael Fontaine is struggling to preserve his legacy against the threats of rebels, firestorms and floods. The Nomenklatura live safely behind the Protection Barriers, but out in the Wastelands the rest of the population is fighting for food and water.
Miriam Sabto, the Minister for Incarceration, aspires to be the first Black president of the Democratic Republic of Australia, and her advisor, Ruth Tran, will do anything to make this happen. And then there is Freddie Wu, envoy from Shanghai, with his demands backed up by a visiting aircraft carrier.
As the rebels attack the Fontaine Government, events take a sudden turn that puts the future of Australia on the line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Apr 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781922812421

James Garton

James Garton lives in the hills outside Melbourne, Australia. His favourite authors include Penelope Fitzgerald, Percival Everett, James Ellroy and Michelle de Kretser.

Book preview

Chapter One

That night Vijay and Melina found Rashid Kupra at the bar in his usual speakeasy near the Yarra Swamp. Melina grabbed him by the elbow and hustled him outside through the back door. Once in the alley she jammed a forearm under his chin and backed him up against the wall.

All we need is copies of the files for two advisors to the Minister for Incarceration, Vijay said in Rashid’s ear.

I can’t, I can’t. It’s too risky. He gasped for air, but Melina kept the pressure on his throat.

C’mon, it’ll be easy, Vijay said. You’re senior enough in the Ministry for National Security, for God’s sake. You’ve got access to the files.

I can’t do it. This is Noah Kowalski we’re talking about. You know what he’s like about his precious files. I’ll end up dead.

Rashid was sweating, even though it was a mild evening, and Vijay could see that he was ready to cave in. He nodded at Melina, who let her arm drop, then delivered two sharp slaps to Rashid’s face, one from each hand. His head snapped back, and tears sprang into his eyes.

Melina checked left and right in the alley way for passers-by.

It’ll only take a few minutes, Vijay said quietly. And you will have our undying gratitude in return. Plus we won’t tell your boss about breaking the Golden Rules on your visits to these shitholes in the Swamp. Two drunken patrons staggered through the doorway as Vijay stopped speaking, and peered curiously at the three of them huddled together against the wall. Melina flicked her jacket open to reveal her holstered handgun, and the two men lurched off down the alley without looking back.

Last chance, Vijay said, and Melina stepped forward with a clenched fist and punched Rashid in the kidneys.

OK, OK, he groaned, and Vijay stuffed a phone into his shirt pocket.

Take this phone. Brand new. Secure. And copy the kompromat we need on two advisors to the Minister for Incarceration. Vladimir Loh and Ruth Tran. Got it? Within forty eight hours, Rashid. Make sure you do a thorough job.

They drove off leaving Rashid slumped against the alley wall looking desperate.

He’s right, you know, Melina said. Noah Kowalski is the most dangerous Minister for National Security anyone can remember.

That’s right, Vijay smiled. But Rashid Kupra is a cunning little rat. He’ll survive. No loss if he doesn’t.

He pulled over outside Melina’s apartment block.

Give Rashid a reminder tomorrow about the deadline for those files. This operation is urgent.

OK. Lukim yu behain, Melina said.

***

The files that Rashid Kupra procured for them from the Ministry for National Security confirmed that Vladimir Loh and Ruth Tran were the two staff members closest to Miriam Sabto.

Loh’s file revealed little of real interest. He had the profile of a typical policy geek, all hot air and self-importance, but clean as a whistle. Clearly he was a nonentity, a cog in the machine.

On the other hand, when Vijay delved into Ruth Tran’s files, her loss of social credit points after her divorce caught his eye. There were also some odd cracks in her personal narrative. Her father’s death generated some questions, and the disappearance of her sister added a further level of intrigue. Worth following up.

Melina looked further into Ruth’s record and found that she was listed as an informer to the police half a dozen times, specifically the Morals Department, otherwise known as the God Squad. Even more interesting, she was also an informer to the Ministry for National Security on a further two occasions.

A lot of the info on file was redacted, of course, Melina said. But it’s clear that the God Squad was involved. They’d be digging around for breaches of the Golden Rules, looking for sexual liaisons outside marriage, abortions, drug related offences and so on.

Vijay was satisfied with the outcome of their review of the files. No doubt Ruth’s career as an informer began with her problems on the moral affairs front due to divorce. That would be when she was enlisted by the God Squad to provide the sort of kompromat that would help to identify not just lawbreakers, but dissidents who should be reported to the Ministry for National Security and deported to Tasmania.

With Ruth Tran an experienced informer his task would be that much easier.

Chapter Two

What do you think, Ruth? the Minister asks as we enter the Great Assembly Hall. She waves a hand at the tall fluted columns, marble floors and vast open spaces with seating for two thousand people.

We have just been herded through a labyrinth of blast walls and Face ID checks. It’s tedious, but the effort is worth it. The Hall is as impressive as the monuments in onscreen documentaries about ancient Rome or modern Shanghai.

Wonderful! I say, and she smiles as we are greeted obsequiously by the ushers. She is whisked away to the VIP section, while I am shown to the cheap seats at the back of the Hall.

I watch as the Nomenklatura are seated at the front of the auditorium, exuding the casual confidence of the elite, masking their excitement at this great occasion with polite indifference. They are not easy to impress, these privileged and powerful men and women in their Kobe jackets, high collared and wide sleeved, made from silk by the very best Japanese fashion houses.

The Convenor of the Gathering is Rebecca Torode, a fat old White woman with a pale moon face who greets the audience like a long-lost friend.

Hallelujah! Professor Torode begins, lifting her hands to shoulder level, palms cupped. And the crowd in the Great Assembly Hall responds Hallelujah! en masse. Then she steps forward and introduces President Fontaine and the First Lady to a roar of applause from the audience, now dropping all pretence of ennui, the sight of their beloved leader galvanizing even the most reticent into action.

The President hesitates modestly, then succumbs to Professor Torode’s plea to say a few words of welcome. As he approaches the rostrum a spotlight haloes his silver hair, and he turns a beaming smile on the audience.

It’s clear that President Fontaine is even more charismatic in person than he is onscreen, a tall stooping figure, the legendary Father of the Democratic Republic of Australia.

Hallelujah! the President calls out, raising both arms and waiting for the shouting and applause to die down. It’s lovely to feel such energy in this wonderful auditorium! More applause. Today we will hear from the best of our new generation of leaders, on matters that are crucial to our peace and prosperity. We must all believe in a better life to come, after many trials and tribulations, as we strive for prosperity for us all, for every citizen living in our wonderful country! The key is faith. The belief that we can overcome all obstacles, no matter how terrible. And I know that today we will hear from the truth-seekers, those who will strive, with God’s help, to bring this miracle into being!

The auditorium roars into life again when he finishes, a crescendo of Hallelujahs and loud applause that follows him back to his seat.

Professor Torode returns to the microphone and assumes a gentle confiding tone, as though allowing us into a secret.

Thank you, Mr President, thank you … Now, ladies and gentlemen, we are greatly honoured today to have as keynote speaker Miriam Sabto, who has recently been appointed to Cabinet as Minister for Incarceration. Her promotion is, of course, given in recognition of her contribution for so many years to the recovery of our wonderful country from the National Disaster. I am proud to say that she is one of the most gifted graduates of our Leadership College. Minister Sabto is also a fine example of the diversity of our Government, both in employing the talents of our multicultural citizens, as well as appointing female leaders of exceptional ability.

Professor Torode pauses a moment and looks over the top of her glasses with a sugary smile.

Stupid old bitch. Everyone knows Miriam is one of only two Non-Whites in the Cabinet, as defined in the Official Racial Categories.

Then she continues: Minister Sabto is renowned for her dedicated approach to the challenges of government, and for her ability to find solutions to our problems and apply them with the full force of the law. Today, ladies and gentlemen, Minister Sabto’s topic is The Future of the Protection Zone.

And she leads the applause as the Minister rises from her seat and approaches the rostrum.

I feel a little nervous. This is Miriam’s first major speech as a new member of Cabinet, an opportunity to impress this prestigious Nomenklatura Gathering. Now, more than ever, she has to cultivate her guanxi as strongly as possible. She needs all the powerful networks she can get, and failure is unthinkable.

This moment is important for me too, since her new position as Minister for Incarceration improves my status in the hierarchy of Government advisors. And I don’t want to lose that momentum.

Here the Nomenklatura look like they feel invulnerable, enjoying the best of all possible worlds, confident that no terrorists can possibly penetrate their inner sanctum. After all, the Yarra Convention Centre is built to withstand anything but a direct hit from a nuclear missile.

Some of them, perhaps many, are hoping that Miriam will fail, or at least, not impress this audience of VIPs. And Miriam is a threat. Other featured speakers, like Noah Kowalski, the Minister for National Security, also see themselves as contenders to replace President Fontaine when he retires. The competition is intense.

Miriam strides confidently to the lectern and launches into her speech. She speaks firmly and clearly, fierce intelligence beaming from her brown eyes, a white linen blouse highlighting her dark skin and thick black hair. She is the youngest member of the Cabinet, and the only Black one, but she shows no sign of uncertainty or deference.

I sit rapt in admiration, savouring every word and gesture. I would love to emulate Miriam’s poise, but there’s no way I can measure up to her charismatic presence.

The Minister’s forceful delivery gives the speech the ring I tried to achieve when I was condensing the turgid drafts written by my colleague Vladimir Loh. He is supposed to be a gifted speechwriter, but he has no idea how to talk to real people in sound bites. He’s definitely not the first person I would choose as an advisor. His heavy spectacles, sallow complexion and pug nose make him look like a cartoon of a superior intellectual. And then there’s his obsessively tidy desk with its neatly arranged pens and pencils, and shiny new folders filled with his precious reports. But it seems that I have to put up with him, for the time being at least.

Then the Minister arrives at the conclusion, and I follow her every word in my copy onscreen.

To conclude, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have established separate zones with secure borders, and detention centres for suspected terrorists. It is a fact that detention centres in the Wastelands have been fundamental to Australia’s security arrangements for many years now, with great success in protecting the safety of our citizens. For those of you who are visitors here, as you walk around the Protection Zone of New Melbourne outside the doors of this fine convention centre, you will see a level of security and safety that is difficult to find in any comparable city around the world. Thank you.

The bit about visitors to New Melbourne is my idea, to personalize the message, and I feel a flush of pride hearing the Minister say it.

Obviously pleased with the hearty applause, the Minister accepts the thanks of the Convenor and steps down from the stage with her head held high.

The President shakes Miriam’s hand, followed closely by Rachel Lam, Foreign Minister, while Noah Kowalski is conspicuous by his absence.

Rachel is smiling and effusive. She always makes sure to pay attention to Miriam in public, I notice, and they seem to be good friends, supportive of each other in Cabinet.

Rachel soon leaves to wait upon President Fontaine, and I spend the rest of the day running around for the Minister, busy with my phone, taking messages, relaying responses, and collating important papers onscreen. It gives me the opportunity to get a glimpse of the VIPs in The Congregation, the top politicians and CEOs, and to gather whatever information I can glean from other advisors. The Gathering is a marketplace of ideas, if you like, excellent for developing guanxi. Everybody wants something, and the corridors are filled with whispered conversations, displays of dominance, and deals done in secret.

After an exhausting round of speeches and seminars, we finally arrive at the end of the program, and the Minister offers me a lift home.

It’s on my way, Ruth. No problem at all, and I am thrilled. My pleasure deepens as we wait in the foyer for the Minister’s VIP limousine to arrive, departing guests stopping to chat briefly with her as I look on, Miriam introducing me to anyone who says more than a few words. She’s like that, very thoughtful, and it’s a great help to my career, extending my guanxi in ways that only she can help me with.

President Fontaine and the First Lady pause when they see Miriam, and the President raises a hand to stop the crowd of security agents that surround him. I’m struck again by the President’s cheerful manner, and Sylvia Fontaine’s haughty air of authority as they both approach us.

Minister Sabto! Allow me to congratulate you again on a wonderful speech, the President beams.

The Minister says Thank you, sir, and she smiles back at him. A huge gorgeous smile, perfect teeth. This is Ruth Tran, my advisor, she introduces me. The President nods benignly and I duck my head in an awkward half-bow. I’m not prepared for this, and wonder if I should curtsy, like the old viz of commoners meeting royalty. He is an even more overwhelming presence up close, and I feel nervous as I try to adopt a sophisticated smile.

Behind him I can see the enigmatic expression of the President’s wife, gazing down on us like a hawk scanning for prey. Sylvia Fontaine, the former Sylvia Rojo, is rumoured by her enemies to be a descendant of Spanish Jews who escaped the Holocaust and migrated to Australia after the Second World War. Whatever her background, she is an imperious figure, long black hair coiled in a tight chignon, capping off an elegant silk suit.

The President’s limo arrives at that point and we are swept outside in his wake. Mercifully our limo arrives soon after, and we escape the crowd swelling on the pavement in the heat of the early evening, anxiously scanning the VIP driveway for their ride home.

We need to confirm the itinerary for our tour of the Wastelands next week, the Minister says as we settle into our seats.

It’s all in hand, I say. I’ll send confirmation to Detention Inc once you’ve signed off on it. And I’ll send a copy to your screen.

Excellent.

I’m looking forward to the flight to Phillip Island, a rare chance to see the Wastelands. It’s a pity that Vladimir Loh is coming along too, the proverbial fly in the ointment.

I haven’t been outside New Melbourne since the National Disaster, when President Fontaine built the Protection Barriers. This time I will be part of a VIP grand tour, at Miriam’s side.

Chapter Three

The surveillance reports showed that Café Ascolta was the perfect place to meet up with Ruth Tran for the first time. While it had enough status in the Government Precinct to escape ration restrictions, Café Ascolta was not too exclusive and was popular with middle-ranking Government office workers. Ruth had visited the day before, and Vijay had arranged for a professional pickpocket to lift her purse undetected as she left the café with friends.

She arrived on time, and he introduced himself. My name is Vijay Gatz, Ms Tran. Here’s my card. I’m Director of the President’s Office.

Yes, I’ve heard of you, of course.

Sorry I had to go through your purse to find out who it belonged to. And he handed it to her apologetically.

No, I’m very grateful, she said. Please call me Ruth.

As I explained when I rang you, I found it under my seat when I was in here yesterday. And with all due respect to the café staff, I didn’t really want to leave it with them.

Yes, I didn’t miss it until I got back to the office.

He asked if she would like a cup of real coffee, perhaps with cake, and she nodded.

Director of the President’s Office must be a very exciting job, Ruth said, wide-eyed.

Most of my work is pretty routine, to be honest, Vijay smiled reassuringly. What about you? Where do you work?

In the Ministry for Incarceration. I’m an advisor to the Minister, Miriam Sabto.

Well, that’s an important position.

It’s not as important as it sounds. But there are a lot of interesting challenges.

I would imagine it’s a really demanding area.

Oh, yes, it is. And she launched into an account of her current work at a recent Gathering where she met the President, and an upcoming trip to the Wastelands. Vijay was taken with her eloquent gestures.

I keep hearing how highly regarded Miriam Sabto is. What do you think of her?

Ruth smiled and looked a little nervous. She is great to work for. She’s been an inspiration to me.

He turned the conversation to their personal histories, leading with his ambitions when he graduated from college, his experience in the military, his service in the New Guinea Wars and their impact on the country. She listened intently, appearing genuinely interested in what he was saying.

How did you arrive at the Ministry for Incarceration? I’m assuming you didn’t think about prisons much when you were at college? And he smiled, but noticed that her response was a little guarded.

Oh, it was largely a matter of coming with the Minister when she moved from the Ministry for Trade. I have a background in economics, you see. When she offered me the promotion, I jumped at it.

While Ruth spoke she toyed with the baklava that came with her coffee, leaving the impression that she was choosing her words carefully. Obviously there was more to her answer than met the eye. That was the difficulty with identifying gaps in a subject’s narrative; everything and anything became a source of doubt. However, he soon found himself relaxing and enjoying her company, and worrying a little about how she would handle the task he had for her.

Ruth agreed to have dinner with him the next evening, and he was surprised by how quickly he gained her trust. There was nothing in her file to suggest sympathy with the rebel cause, but when he shared a joke or two about the Fontaine Government she soon revealed some doubts about the treatment of the residents in the Wastelands.

My sister Rosie had to leave the Protection Zone. All because of some innocent mistakes.