Peter Corris - The January Zone

The January Zone

[Cliff Hardy 10]

By Peter Corris

Scanned &Proofed By MadMaxAU

* * * *

am not, I said, asecurity consultant. I am a private detective. A private enquiry agent if youlike, a private eye if you must. But the day I let myself be called a securityconsultant is the day I become a retired private detective.

Cliff,Cliff. Peter January always repeated the name when he wanted something. John,John, hed say to his political opposite number or Michael,Michael, to the TV journalist. Now he wanted me to work for him. Itsonly a name, comrade, he said. What does it matter?

It mattersto me, I said. Fuehrers only a name but somehow I dontlike it.

January laughed. Helaughed easily, probably lied easily too. He was a politician from the groomed,greying hair to the Bally shoes, but he also happened to have some ideas Iagreed with-nuclear-free Australia, profit-sharing in the workplace and supportfor the Balmain Tigers. Im not really talking to you as aprofessional, Cliff, he said. More as a friend. Im bloodyscared. I need help.

It was my turn tolaugh. Shit, you must be joking. Youre a Minister of the Crown.Youve got everything laid on. You can get in a car to go to the pub ifyou like even though its only just across the road. You can hire all themuscle and brains you need. Look around you.

We were in Januarysinner office. His electorate takes in more pubs and TAB agencies than any otherin Australia. He once told me that it used to have more outdoor toilets percapita than anywhere else in the nation until the gentrification of innerSydney happened. As befitted the holder of one of the safest seats in theParliament, and his status as a junior Minister, January had space and staff tofill it. The outer office accommodated six or seven desks, plenty of telephonesand a good number of degree-holding workers.

January lookedthrough the glass at the busy minions and shrugged. Means nothing. Imvulnerable. He had an actors knack of fitting his body to what hesaid. Right then, with his smallish trim figure and his lean, straight-featuredface, he did look vulnerable. My necks stretched out for everycrazy in the country.

What about adrink? I said. You know the great thing about your neck, Peter,stretched or not? Its clean. As far as I know you havent done anydirty deals you havent been able to get out of. Thats why Imhere in your comfy office asking you to open the cupboard and get us a bloodydrink.

It was earlySeptember, one of the first warm days of the year, and January was in his shirtsleeves. The cuffs on the cream-coloured silk shirt were turned back and thetie was loose. The only old thing he wore was the belt around his pants and, asan old waistline watcher myself, I knew why he did that. January was in hismid-30s, the belt was at least ten years old and it had only ever been fastenedat one hole.

Scotch?He opened the small bar fridge and pulled at an ice tray. That was a surprise.Id never known him to drink anything but white wine and soda in thedaytime. Beer was out altogether and spirits were for late at night and inmoderation.

I sighed. Whenpeoples alcohol habits change you know theres something seriousgoing on. You drink Scotch if you like, I said. Illtake a light beer. But Ill listen to what youve got to say aswell.

Good.While he got the drinks I thought back over my short acquaintance with PeterJanuary. It was barely a year old and its creator was Helen Broadway. At thebeginning of her last six months stay with me in the city, Helen had metJanuary at a meeting held to discuss the future of the Bondi foreshore. Theirideas matched and January had tried to match up other things as well. He hadntsucceeded but Helen had needed to produce me to hold him off. We didntlike each other so I was surprised that hed rung me and invited me totake up some of his valuable time.

HowsHelen? January gave me the can of beer and sipped at a strongish-lookingScotch and soda. I was sitting at his desk with my back to the window-glarestill bothered me a bit after an eye injury Id sustained in the courseof duty. January perched on the desk with his back to the glass door.

Shesokay, I said. I sipped the cold beer and seemed to taste the hollownessof the words. Helen was back with her husband and child in the bush for sixmonths as per the arrangement. It was an arrangement thateveryone, me, Helen, Michael her husband and her daughter were learning tohate, but no one had any better ideas.

Cantsee how you can let her go like that. If I had her

If you hadher itd get in the way of your ambition to screw every single woman onyour electoral roll and half the married ones. Arent you worried aboutAIDS?

Lowest ratein Australia on my patch. Ive got the figures. Anyway, Ive beentoo busy of late to do anything much in that line. And youre wrong, Iusually try to avoid shitting in the nest.

Usually?

Well, whenyoure busy you havent got the time to scout around so you might worka little close to home sometimes. Did you see Trudi out there?

I didntsee anyone wearing the name proudly on a T-shirt.

Dark woman,plump you might saywell, no soap so far. Anyway, Ive got too muchon my plate. But you, youre not busy, so I hear.

I crumpled the beercan and set it on the desk in front of me. Ive been busier, Iadmit. And I need distraction. I was thinking of enrolling in a course onneo-Marxist political economy.

Crap,January said. No one had ever accused him of being doctrinaire. Ivegot a real job for you. I get letters, I get threats

Shows youredoing your job. You should attract 51 per cent love, 48 per cent hate and oneper cent dont know.

Dontjoke, its serious. I want to hire you to check on everything-all themail, all the staff, do bodyguarding, the lot. The moneyd be right.

Yeah, Imsure. Id be like a quango. Its not my sort of thing, Peter. I dospecific jobs-find this, protect that for such and such a time, mind him andher and their money for the weekend. Im awhat is it, empiricist?Im no good at generalising.

Sounds likeyouve been doing the political theory bit already.

Helen left afew books around. Ive had the time to read them.

It was the wrongthing to say because it gave him an opening. If you came to work for mefor, say, six months, you could tuck a fair bit of money away, Cliff. Quite abit one way and another. Could be enough to get you a place up the coast. Whereis she?

I answered withoutthinking. Kempsey.

Nice upthere. Place for you by the sea. Get away from all the dirt down here. Moretime with Helen. What dyou think? He tossed off the Scotch andsneaked a look towards the bottle. He was genuinely worried about something bigbut just for now he was savouring a possible small victory. I didnt wanthim to have it.

Ivenever worked for a politician, not in 13 years. Ive had a strict ruleagainst it. And I dont want to be a security consultant.

Thatshow Id get it through the ledger shits. Pragmatism, Cliff. Come acrossthat in your reading?

No, Isaid.

And thatswhen the bomb went off.

* * * *

HE blast rocked the old building to itsfoundations. The door between January and me and the outer office disintegratedand the glass flew back like shrapnel. January screamed and collapsed forwardacross the desk towards me. The crisp back and sleeves of his white shirtturned soggy red. I felt everything around me and inside me loosen and the roarseemed to block out all other sounds and all feeling.

I got out of thechair and moved forward by instinct. Incredibly, January was ahead of mefeeling for the hole in the wall. We went through a cloud of billowing, acridsmoke and I heard people coughing and swearing. Flames licked along at floorlevel and then shot up to envelop the far wall.