Peter Corris - The January Zone

‘I said no.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He implied I was screwing Peter. I let him think what he liked.’

‘How is the Boss? I haven’t seen him for a few days.’

‘Nor have I.’ She looked at her watch. The weather was getting warmer and she was wearing a T-shirt and white denim skirt. There was a faint trace of last summer’s tan on her arms. ‘He’s due in. He’ll be late, but not very late.’

We were by Trudi’s desk in the restored office. If you looked closely you might see signs of the bomb damage but you’d need good eyes. There was a smell of fresh paint and an air of fresh enthusiasm among the people in the room. The word processors were hammering and the light from the hard-pressed photocopier was like a strobe. Mutual dislike of Tobin had somehow drawn Trudi and me back into working harmony.

‘This place is buzzing,’ I said. ‘What’s up? A leadership challenge?’

She laughed. ‘No, it looks like Peter’s getting an invitation to give evidence to a Senate Committee.’

I looked blank. So far as I knew Senate Committees sat every day looking into everything and achieving nothing.

‘In Washington,’ she said.

‘Ah, that’s different.’

‘You bet your life it’s different. This Committee’s looking into the whole security system of the South Pacific-bases, tests, arms sales, the lot. Peter’s got plenty to say on all those subjects. Facts and figures too.’

‘The big time. All right. But what’re we waiting for?’ I looked around the office. People were checking their watches and collecting in one corner of the room as if they were going to watch the last game of the fifth set of the Wimbledon final on TV.

‘Telex,’ Trudi said. ‘Due any minute now.’

There was a hush. The traffic sounds from the busy street seemed to become muted as keys stopped clicking and the photocopier light died.

The door flew open and Peter January marched in. He was impeccably dressed and toileted and he skipped across towards Trudi’s desk. He leered as he placed one of the health food store’s bags on top of Trudi’s papers.

‘Oh, that Magda,’ he said. ‘Makes my blood race.’

‘Have you been pinching bums again, Peter?’ Trudi shifted the bag to one side.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something like, ‘How’s Karen?’ but I held it back. I didn’t know whether Trudi knew about Karen or whether January wanted her to know. Besides, there seemed to be something forced in January’s display of lechery, as if his heart really wasn’t in it. Maybe he was really thinking about the telex.

‘It’s due through any minute,’ Trudi said.

January leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘She’ll be right, love. You’ll get your trip.’

The telex machine chattered. The workers craned forward.

‘Yee-haw!’ The whoop came from Gary who tore the telex free. ‘Shit!’ he roared.

‘What? What?’ January sprang towards him, all the cool self-assurance left behind.

‘Don’t worry. I ripped it, that’s all. It’s what we want. Invited to give evidence…blah, blah… Chairmanship of Senator Allan B. Abilene…’

‘Abilene?’ I said.

‘ “Prettiest town, ah’ve evah seen,” ‘ Trudi sang.

I grinned at her. ‘Who sang it?’

‘George Hamilton IV.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ January said.

‘You’re too young, Peter,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Come into the office you two, we’ve got things to talk about.’

‘Don’t forget your sandwich.’ I handed him the bag.

January waved expansively to the whole office staff and led the way through the new glass door. I wondered how his back was and how it affected his favourite activity. He settled behind his desk; Trudi sat in front of him and I leaned against the wall near the window. It seemed to be my favourite position in the room.

‘Better lay on drinks for all tonight, Trude,’ January said. ‘Just for an hour or so.’

‘Press?’

January grimaced. ‘This afternoon, I guess. Say, at 4 pm, no…4.30. We can get it over quickly and the thirsty buggers’ll move on to the booze with any luck.’

Trudi made notes on a pad. ‘I’m glad I’m here to see this,’ I said. ‘Maybe I can hire a secretary with a law degree and get her to arrange me a seat in the Harold Park public bar.’

‘Shut up, Cliff,’ Trudi said.

January grinned. He opened the bag and pulled out the thick sandwich. ‘I don’t even like the sandwiches,’ he said. ‘Look, I know this is crazy, using Trudi like a stenographer, but it’s a security thing.’

Trudi scratched something on her pad. ‘Tobin suggested it.’

‘The idea is to limit the number of people who know where I am when. Ordinarily, I’d give this to one of the kids, but since Trudi has to know anyway it keeps it tighter. You want this?’ He held out the sandwich to me.

I shook my head. ‘Okay, I see it. What d’you mean when you say you don’t even like the sandwiches? Even, what’s that mean?’

They exchanged glances. January nodded and Trudi shrugged.

‘What’s this?’ I said. ‘A dumb show?’

‘Trudi knows about Karen. All this stuff about me perving on every woman I see is just a blind.’ He held up one hand, palm out, like a man running with the ball. ‘Usta be true, but not since Karen. That’s all very…’

‘Sticky,’ I said.

‘Yeah. The playboy image is to buy time while we figure out what to do.’

‘Peter, I’d hate to be you. Are you fair dinkum when you clean your teeth take a piss, or is that acting too?’

‘It’s not as bad as that.’ He wrapped the sandwich up and slid it across the desk to Trudi. ‘You can take that home to Gunther.’

‘Gunther?’ I said.

January shot me a delighted, point-scoring look. ‘Her dog,’ he said.

I looked out the window while they fixed a few details on January’s agenda. The awnings were down in front of some of the shops, sure sign of the summer on the way. It would be a summer without Helen unless things changed and I didn’t really know whether I wanted them to change or not.

‘Beer, Cliff?’ January reached into the bar fridge which had escaped damage completely.

‘Thanks.’

Trudi got up with the sandwich bag in one hand and her pad and pen in the other. I slid across and opened the door.

‘I’ve got the record,’ she said.

‘Huh?’

‘George Hamilton IV. My ex-husband was a bit older than me; it’s his record. You should come and hear it some time.’

‘Women there don’t treat you mean,’ I said.

‘In Abilene.’ She went out.

‘I’ll tell Helen,’ January said.

‘Then I’ll tell Sammy Weiss you’re screwing Karen Weiner.’

‘Weiss! Shit, Cliff, you’re not talking to that slob, are you?’

‘He’s Detective Inspector Lloyd Tobin’s brother-in-law.’

January passed me a can of Swan Light and poured himself a weak wine and soda. He watched the bubbles rise and fall and shook his head. ‘God, it’s a dirty world. Okay, Cliff, here’s the thing. I want you to come to Washington with us.’

‘Us?’

‘Me, Trudi, couple of other staffers.’

‘Why?’

‘The Americans can’t guarantee my security.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘Don’t.’ He held his hand up in that blocking gesture he favoured. ‘I’m buggered if I know. Are you aware of what I’m going to say over there? Trudi fill you in?’

‘Not really. You’re against a lot of things.’

‘The lot-bases, tests, arms deals, mercenary contracts, don’t you worry, there’s plenty of that under other names, surveillance equipment, monitoring devices, the lot.’