1
Fiction
The Other Panopticon
Links to earlier scenes:
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
---
CHAPTER 2, Scenes 1 + 2 (5 minute read)
Darwin – Early Autumn 2006
Rufus Delaney’s email hit my desk on the first day of autumn.
‘You’ve got the two investigators you were after,’ it read. ‘They both performed exceptionally well at their selection interviews and there’s been no appeal from any of their opposing candidates. Enzo told us he was looking forward to working closely with you again and Celina was pleased to escape the Sydney rat race.’
A week later, Enzo Rossi and Celina Harrington rocked into Darwin office where they encountered each other for the first time.
‘I’m told you’re an ex-copper,’ I heard Celina announce.
‘And I’m told you’re not,’ Enzo replied.
His response made me smile.
‘Come on in you two,’ I interrupted them - through the open doorway.
We arranged ourselves around my small round meeting table.
‘Congratulations on your appointments here,’ I began. ‘You know there’s a reason I wanted the two of you to join to me at the Top End?’
My question drew blank looks from them both.
‘You’ve each got specific capabilities I need to use. You, Enzo, have worked with me in counter-intelligence and you, Celina, have some of the best undercover skills I’ve had the pleasure to work with. Right now, both of your specialist skills are required to help me nail down an investigation I’m involved with in Darwin which only the three of us can know anything about.
I paused for effect. Enzo was to first to seek clarification.
‘Is that because we have a traitor in our midst?’
I nodded – ‘Maybe’.
He was already on the same page.
‘The investigation is codenamed ‘Catch-22’. It’s either a clever SVR deception operation or investigation of an SVR illegal network based in Darwin.
‘Why can’t at least the DDG be briefed on it?’ asked Enzo.
‘In time, he may have to be,’ I replied. ‘But not at this point.’
‘And whose decision is that?’ he persisted.
‘Mine. Catch-22 is not an ASIO operation; it’s an ASIO Darwin Office operation at this point. Every piece of information regarding it is locked away in this safe,’ I added, gesturing towards my two-drawer security container.
‘Are you suggesting that even Rufus Delaney could be the SVR traitor?’ Enzo asked.
‘Someone extremely well placed in our organisation could be,’ I replied. ‘So I’m not taking any chances.’
I paused for effect.
‘Are you both on board with this?’ I continued.
They both nodded – tentatively.
‘Who am I being targeted against undercover?’ asked Celina.
‘Family of four,’ I replied. ‘The father is called Bruce Cunningham – in his early sixties. He owns a fishing chartering business here. Along with his adult son, Kurt. Bruce spends most of the barramundi fishing season here in the top End taking wealthy interstate fishing tragics to prime Top End barra spots such as Mary’s River and the East Alligator River in the Northern Territory’s Kakadu National Park.’
‘And during the Top End wet season?’ she asked.
‘Weather permitting, Bruce and his 30-year-old son, Kurt, operate ocean fishing charters out of Darwin. Beryl, the wife and mother is in her late fifties. She works as an administrator at Darwin’s Christ Church Anglican Cathedral and their 28-year-old daughter Kylie – or rather Doctor Kylie - works as a lecturer in politics at Charles Darwin University.
‘What is the SVR telling you about this lot?’ asked Enzo.
‘According to a Russian Intelligence asset of untested reliability, all family members are deep sleeper Russian intelligence agents, operating as part of an SVR Directorate S illegal network here for probably half a decade. The two kids would have been young adults when the family underwent their illegals training in Mother Russia. For all we know, Kurt and Kylie may not belong biologically to Bruce and Beryl.
‘If the Russians do own them, they sure as hell gave them Aussie names,’ suggested Celina. ‘Where are they living?’
‘At 52 Rankin Street, Nightcliff – one of Darwin’s more ritzy beach suburbs.’
‘I know the area,’ she said. ‘Stayed there with a girlfriend one time.’
‘Does that girlfriend still live there?’ I asked.
‘I can find out,’ she replied.
‘Your main target with be the 30-year-old son, Celina’ I added. ‘Think you could get to like barramundi and ocean fishing?’
‘That’s pretty well what we do in our line of work, isn’t it boss,’ she smiled, ‘We fish!’
‘And my remit?’ asked Enzo.
‘You and your wife are Christians are you not?’ I asked.
‘Well … Catholics,’ he replied.
‘OK, so you’re both about to switch denominations to Anglican. Your new best friends, Bruce and Beryl Cunningham – you’ll find - are active parishioners at Darwin’s Anglican Cathedral. And, of course, there must be no mention of any of this to your wife, Enzo. Officially, Operation Catch-22 does not exist.’
--- o0o ---
My old Agency sparring partner, Cameron Miller, finally got away from Manila, flying into Darwin that first week of March and booking himself into the Darwin Hilton.
I met him after work that Friday. He had a bottle of Jim Beam ready to empty into a shot glass at the bar and the loudest Hawaiian shirt that not even an Hawaiian would be seen dead in.
‘You’re looking a bit weathered Mikey,’ was his opening greeting. ‘Looks like I’ve arrived here just in time.’
We clinked glasses and toasted ‘our mutual friend Ooshie’ who was still, Miller claimed, undergoing the odd Agency debrief.
I threw Lvov Dmitriyevich Zorkov’s name at him and he caught it with relish.
‘One of the SVR’s more tricky KR characters,’ Miller noted. ‘How in the hell have you crossed paths with him?’
‘Officially I haven’t,’ I replied. ‘And therein lies the problem.’
Miller shot me a sideways glance.
‘You haven’t gone rogue again, have you Mikey?’ he wondered.
‘In a sense – yes,’ I confessed. ‘Which is where I’m hoping you might come in.’
He refilled his glass and dropped some ice into it.
‘Not another bloody traitor in your ranks, is it?’
‘Not sure just yet, but can’t take any chances at this point. That’s why I need your help.’
‘Sort of thought you might,’ he smiled. ‘Can you suggest what might be in it for us?’
‘You mean apart from working out if we have an Alrich Ames[1] in our midst?’
‘Touche Mikey,’ he replied and managed a smile.
‘I’ll need to borrow some of your operational kit,’ I began. ‘But no one at my end nor yours can know who will be using it and why.’
‘Now that could be tricky,’ said Miller. ‘These days the auditors are pretty much on our hammer.’
‘I’ve made a list of what I want,’ I said, handing him an envelope. He tore it open and nodded slightly as he read from my note inside.
‘Can you give me a day or two?’ he asked. ‘I may need to relocate to this fair town if it’s as serious as you’re suggesting it could be.’
‘That would help. Do you have somewhere you can operate from in Darwin?’
‘I’ll need to explore my options,’ he replied. ‘But someone senior to me will need to know why I’m suddenly relocating from Manila to Darwin. Can you give me something to work with?’
Tell them you’re following one of Ooshie’s leads about a problem at the new Robertson Military Barracks just out of Darwin where a small US military advisory team, I believe, is currently operating.’
‘Our defence people won’t want the CIA interfering in its deployment here,’ he suggested.
‘You don’t have to be too specific about the problem Cameron,’ I urged. ‘You just need to set up a base there and have on hand that list of kit I’ve just handed you.’
Miller emptied his glass and leant forward in his bar stool.
‘Why can’t you use your own kit?’ he asked.
‘It’ll raise too many question that I’m not prepared to answer.’
‘And I won’t be in the same boat?’
I got into his head space.
’Cameron, I need that gear,’ I whispered. ‘And I need you working with me and my team on this.’
‘Who in your team?’
‘My two gun investigators. They are the only ones who know what this is about.’
‘Which is more than I do, Michael.’
‘Get yourself over here, with your gear, and I’ll brief you up fully.’
‘And it I don’t?’
‘Then this conversation never took place, my friend.’
[1] Aldrich Hazen ‘Rick’ Ames is a former CIA counterintelligence officer who was convicted of espionage on behalf of the Soviet Union and Russia in 1994.
To be Continued...
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
---
CHAPTER 2, Scenes 1 + 2 (5 minute read)
Darwin – Early Autumn 2006
Rufus Delaney’s email hit my desk on the first day of autumn.
‘You’ve got the two investigators you were after,’ it read. ‘They both performed exceptionally well at their selection interviews and there’s been no appeal from any of their opposing candidates. Enzo told us he was looking forward to working closely with you again and Celina was pleased to escape the Sydney rat race.’
A week later, Enzo Rossi and Celina Harrington rocked into Darwin office where they encountered each other for the first time.
‘I’m told you’re an ex-copper,’ I heard Celina announce.
‘And I’m told you’re not,’ Enzo replied.
His response made me smile.
‘Come on in you two,’ I interrupted them - through the open doorway.
We arranged ourselves around my small round meeting table.
‘Congratulations on your appointments here,’ I began. ‘You know there’s a reason I wanted the two of you to join to me at the Top End?’
My question drew blank looks from them both.
‘You’ve each got specific capabilities I need to use. You, Enzo, have worked with me in counter-intelligence and you, Celina, have some of the best undercover skills I’ve had the pleasure to work with. Right now, both of your specialist skills are required to help me nail down an investigation I’m involved with in Darwin which only the three of us can know anything about.
I paused for effect. Enzo was to first to seek clarification.
‘Is that because we have a traitor in our midst?’
I nodded – ‘Maybe’.
He was already on the same page.
‘The investigation is codenamed ‘Catch-22’. It’s either a clever SVR deception operation or investigation of an SVR illegal network based in Darwin.
‘Why can’t at least the DDG be briefed on it?’ asked Enzo.
‘In time, he may have to be,’ I replied. ‘But not at this point.’
‘And whose decision is that?’ he persisted.
‘Mine. Catch-22 is not an ASIO operation; it’s an ASIO Darwin Office operation at this point. Every piece of information regarding it is locked away in this safe,’ I added, gesturing towards my two-drawer security container.
‘Are you suggesting that even Rufus Delaney could be the SVR traitor?’ Enzo asked.
‘Someone extremely well placed in our organisation could be,’ I replied. ‘So I’m not taking any chances.’
I paused for effect.
‘Are you both on board with this?’ I continued.
They both nodded – tentatively.
‘Who am I being targeted against undercover?’ asked Celina.
‘Family of four,’ I replied. ‘The father is called Bruce Cunningham – in his early sixties. He owns a fishing chartering business here. Along with his adult son, Kurt. Bruce spends most of the barramundi fishing season here in the top End taking wealthy interstate fishing tragics to prime Top End barra spots such as Mary’s River and the East Alligator River in the Northern Territory’s Kakadu National Park.’
‘And during the Top End wet season?’ she asked.
‘Weather permitting, Bruce and his 30-year-old son, Kurt, operate ocean fishing charters out of Darwin. Beryl, the wife and mother is in her late fifties. She works as an administrator at Darwin’s Christ Church Anglican Cathedral and their 28-year-old daughter Kylie – or rather Doctor Kylie - works as a lecturer in politics at Charles Darwin University.
‘What is the SVR telling you about this lot?’ asked Enzo.
‘According to a Russian Intelligence asset of untested reliability, all family members are deep sleeper Russian intelligence agents, operating as part of an SVR Directorate S illegal network here for probably half a decade. The two kids would have been young adults when the family underwent their illegals training in Mother Russia. For all we know, Kurt and Kylie may not belong biologically to Bruce and Beryl.
‘If the Russians do own them, they sure as hell gave them Aussie names,’ suggested Celina. ‘Where are they living?’
‘At 52 Rankin Street, Nightcliff – one of Darwin’s more ritzy beach suburbs.’
‘I know the area,’ she said. ‘Stayed there with a girlfriend one time.’
‘Does that girlfriend still live there?’ I asked.
‘I can find out,’ she replied.
‘Your main target with be the 30-year-old son, Celina’ I added. ‘Think you could get to like barramundi and ocean fishing?’
‘That’s pretty well what we do in our line of work, isn’t it boss,’ she smiled, ‘We fish!’
‘And my remit?’ asked Enzo.
‘You and your wife are Christians are you not?’ I asked.
‘Well … Catholics,’ he replied.
‘OK, so you’re both about to switch denominations to Anglican. Your new best friends, Bruce and Beryl Cunningham – you’ll find - are active parishioners at Darwin’s Anglican Cathedral. And, of course, there must be no mention of any of this to your wife, Enzo. Officially, Operation Catch-22 does not exist.’
--- o0o ---
My old Agency sparring partner, Cameron Miller, finally got away from Manila, flying into Darwin that first week of March and booking himself into the Darwin Hilton.
I met him after work that Friday. He had a bottle of Jim Beam ready to empty into a shot glass at the bar and the loudest Hawaiian shirt that not even an Hawaiian would be seen dead in.
‘You’re looking a bit weathered Mikey,’ was his opening greeting. ‘Looks like I’ve arrived here just in time.’
We clinked glasses and toasted ‘our mutual friend Ooshie’ who was still, Miller claimed, undergoing the odd Agency debrief.
I threw Lvov Dmitriyevich Zorkov’s name at him and he caught it with relish.
‘One of the SVR’s more tricky KR characters,’ Miller noted. ‘How in the hell have you crossed paths with him?’
‘Officially I haven’t,’ I replied. ‘And therein lies the problem.’
Miller shot me a sideways glance.
‘You haven’t gone rogue again, have you Mikey?’ he wondered.
‘In a sense – yes,’ I confessed. ‘Which is where I’m hoping you might come in.’
He refilled his glass and dropped some ice into it.
‘Not another bloody traitor in your ranks, is it?’
‘Not sure just yet, but can’t take any chances at this point. That’s why I need your help.’
‘Sort of thought you might,’ he smiled. ‘Can you suggest what might be in it for us?’
‘You mean apart from working out if we have an Alrich Ames[1] in our midst?’
‘Touche Mikey,’ he replied and managed a smile.
‘I’ll need to borrow some of your operational kit,’ I began. ‘But no one at my end nor yours can know who will be using it and why.’
‘Now that could be tricky,’ said Miller. ‘These days the auditors are pretty much on our hammer.’
‘I’ve made a list of what I want,’ I said, handing him an envelope. He tore it open and nodded slightly as he read from my note inside.
‘Can you give me a day or two?’ he asked. ‘I may need to relocate to this fair town if it’s as serious as you’re suggesting it could be.’
‘That would help. Do you have somewhere you can operate from in Darwin?’
‘I’ll need to explore my options,’ he replied. ‘But someone senior to me will need to know why I’m suddenly relocating from Manila to Darwin. Can you give me something to work with?’
Tell them you’re following one of Ooshie’s leads about a problem at the new Robertson Military Barracks just out of Darwin where a small US military advisory team, I believe, is currently operating.’
‘Our defence people won’t want the CIA interfering in its deployment here,’ he suggested.
‘You don’t have to be too specific about the problem Cameron,’ I urged. ‘You just need to set up a base there and have on hand that list of kit I’ve just handed you.’
Miller emptied his glass and leant forward in his bar stool.
‘Why can’t you use your own kit?’ he asked.
‘It’ll raise too many question that I’m not prepared to answer.’
‘And I won’t be in the same boat?’
I got into his head space.
’Cameron, I need that gear,’ I whispered. ‘And I need you working with me and my team on this.’
‘Who in your team?’
‘My two gun investigators. They are the only ones who know what this is about.’
‘Which is more than I do, Michael.’
‘Get yourself over here, with your gear, and I’ll brief you up fully.’
‘And it I don’t?’
‘Then this conversation never took place, my friend.’
[1] Aldrich Hazen ‘Rick’ Ames is a former CIA counterintelligence officer who was convicted of espionage on behalf of the Soviet Union and Russia in 1994.
To be Continued...



