1
Fiction
The Other Panopticon
Chapter 2, Scenes 3 & 4 (5 minute read)
Links to earlier scenes:
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 2
---
My nightly call to Julie went unanswered, so I sent her an email.
I was still hoping she and Veronica could join me in Darwin but it would mean dragging my wife away from her real estate business where she had recently been made a partner. And it would also mean dragging our 13-year-old away from her new Sydney girls’ school and relocating her to one of Darwin’s all-girl colleges, none of which we had researched.
I’d just finished devouring my Chinese takeaway when the front doorbell rang and Darna Del Rosario stood before me in a tight-fitting red sarong and matching sandals grasping a bottle of red.
‘I’ve had another visit from my spooky client Arthur,’ she announced.
‘You’d better come in,’ I suggested.
She looked different from our previous encounter. Her jet-black hair was braided into a plait that reached the small of her back and ended in a red bow. Her sarong dress hung barely much lower than the bow. She’d applied enough make-up to hide her otherwise tell-tale facial wrinkles and her blood-red lipstick was particularly disconcerting. The phrase ‘red letter day’ sprang to mind.
She handed me the wine then arranged herself decoratively across my two-seater living room couch and appeared to be staring me down as I went to find the wine glasses.
‘When was your latest encounter with Arthur?’ I asked.
‘Early this afternoon,’ she replied. ‘He paid me a lot of money to perform a special task.’
‘Oh?’
‘He wanted me to seduce you.’
After a brief hesitation, I placed the empty wine glasses on the coffee table in front of her then took a step back.
‘Does he know you’re reporting to me on him? Or have you been working for him on me from the outset?’
The smile on her face reduced suddenly.
‘Are you saying you don’t trust me Michael?’
I unscrewed the cap from the wine bottle and filled both glasses.
‘Not until I find out more about you Darna. Cheers!’
I raised my glass and kept my eye on her as I savoured its contents. She followed suit and her smile gradually returned.
‘My life’s pretty boring,’ she said. ‘Can we talk about you instead?’
She removed something from her handbag.
‘I’ve brought some pretzels to go with the wine,’ she announced, displaying a packet of Woolworths’ best.
I took them and repaired to the kitchen to empty the packet into a bowl, returning to find her jamming something into her handbag.
‘Let’s toast our beautiful new friendship, Michael,’ she declared, again raising her glass.
‘To new friends,’ I replied and took a gulp of my wine which suddenly tasted bitter.
‘Now,’ she announced, ‘what can I tell you about myself that you don’t already know?’
‘Humour me,’ I replied and sampled one of her pretzels.
She slid off her sandals and pulled her legs underneath her on the couch, sending the sarong up around her waist. I was very glad my wife was not lurking somewhere in the apartment.
‘I was born in Manila,’ she began. ‘We were a large family.’
I went to take another sip of my wine but stopped when the room started to fog up. Without warning, my head was suddenly drooping.
‘Are you alright Michael?’ I heard Darna ask.
There was now a dull ache in my jaw and I could scarcely replace my wine glass on the coffee table.
‘Have you drugged this bloody wine?’ I groaned.
Darna was now moving in several directions at once and the room seemed to be doing the same.
‘Good night my friend,’ I heard her say and somewhere to my right a door closed.
Then the lights went out.
--- o0o ---
The ringing was consistent and the longer it went on the more my head hurt. When it stopped, the haze disappeared back into what seemed to be a black hole.
It was the nausea that finally woke me up. Parts of me were now functioning again; sufficiently to get me crawling on all fours towards the bathroom. How I made it to the toilet bowl in time, remains a mystery.
There I remained, retching and bathed in perspiration. When I no longer had anything inside me left to expel, I managed to prop myself up against the bathroom door and take stock. I’d kicked off my sandals and shed my shorts and t-shirt that were damp from what I hoped was hyperhidrosis. I smelt of vomit and my face felt flaccid. Slowly and painfully, I used a towel rail to steady myself., then, taking a deep breath, I reached across to the shower recess and turned the cold tap onto ‘full’.
I’m not sure how long I sat under the cascade of cool running water from the shower head, but it was enough to get me standing upright. After steadying myself, I wrapped a towel around my waist and swallowed a tumbler of water from the bathroom tap. Exhausted from the effort, I stagged into the living room and collapsed onto the couch where Darna had been sitting.
I focussed on a wall clock opposite and it was showing midday. Through the window another tropical storm was building. I needed to ring my office and looked around for my cell phone. I remembered leaving it on the coffee table but figured Darna had souvenired it after I’d passed out. Zorkov’s techos could well now be interrogating it.
My legs were propelling me in the direction of the hall phone when there was a loud knock on my front door and through the frosted glass two heads were visible. I readjusted the towel around my waist and reached the door, peering through its spyhole.
I recognised the voices on my doorstep even before I caught sight of their owners. I opened the door and two horrified faces greeted me.
‘Boss – what’s happened?’ asked Celina.
I ushered my two young investigators inside, repaired to the bathroom and managed to replace my towel with my damp shorts.
‘We’ve been trying to ring you all morning,’ said Celina as I re-entered the living room.
‘That explains the ringing in my head when I was semi-conscious,’ I replied.
I took hold of Enzo’s elbow.
‘I need a favour,’ I told him. ‘Can you see if my next-door neighbour is in, and if she is kindly march her in to this apartment?’
He did as I asked - I heard him ringing Darna’s doorbell, several times.
‘There’s no one there,’ he called through the open front doorway of my apartment.
‘Of course there isn’t,’ I groaned.
‘Boss, what’s this all about?’ asked Celina who seemed concerned about my physical wellbeing.
I dropped into the nearest chair I could find.
‘Make me a mug of tea, Celina and I’ll fill you both in,’ I managed.
Enzo appeared in my sitting room displaying a front door key.
‘I found this under your neighbour’s welcome mat,’ he announced.
‘Then could you please let yourself into her place with the key and tell me what you find.’
‘That’s trespassing,’ he replied.
‘Not if you have the front door key,’ I suggested.
He was gone for barely two minutes and when he returned, he seemed puzzled.
‘The place is empty,’ he said, ‘Except for the furniture and a few things in the fridge. If someone was living there then they’ve taken all their belongings and bolted. Even seemed to have cleaned up after them.’
He handed me Darna’s door key then eased into a chair opposite me. A few minutes later, Celina appeared with three mugs of tea and a raft of questions. I raised my hand as a thank-you gesture and to halt her interrogation.
For the next ten minutes, I took them through the previous night’s encounter with Darna Del Rosario.
‘My neighbour was on Zorkov’s payroll,’ I concluded, ‘and I’ve just been given a not so gentle reminder that if we don’t play by his rules with our Catch-22 investigation, then he will punish us.’
‘But what are his rules?’ asked Celina.
‘Well for one,’ I suggested. ‘We are to concentrate on investigating the Cunningham family and not him.
‘How do we know the Cunninghams are not simply your average Australian family who he’s using to lead us through some kind of SVR maze?’ asked Enzo.
‘We don’t,’ I admitted. ‘But we need to find out more about the Cunningham family first before we can reach that conclusion.’
‘Strikes me he’s holding all the aces in this,’ Celina noted. ‘Doesn’t that tell us something?’
‘It tells me we need to find out why he has made this approach to us in the first place,’ I suggested. ‘Why turn up on our territory and expose himself the way he has? Is he a Ukrainian Tartar freedom fighter who is working against Putin from within? Another Oleg Penkovskiy† who knows he can best undermine Putin by remaining a well-placed SVR insider?’
‘Or is he just another Yuri Nosenko?’ Enzo wondered, ‘whom the CIA judged to be the classic KGB deception agent, sent to tie the Agency up in knots? And now it’s our turn.’
† Oleg Vladimirovich Penkovsky was a Soviet military intelligence (GRU) colonel during the late 1950s-early 1960s. He passed to British and American intelligence information about Soviet missile build-ups in Cuba, enabling US President John F. Kennedy to face down Soviet leader, Nikita Khrushchev and resolve the Cuban Missile crisis without a nuclear war.
Continued...
Links to earlier scenes:
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 2
---
My nightly call to Julie went unanswered, so I sent her an email.
I was still hoping she and Veronica could join me in Darwin but it would mean dragging my wife away from her real estate business where she had recently been made a partner. And it would also mean dragging our 13-year-old away from her new Sydney girls’ school and relocating her to one of Darwin’s all-girl colleges, none of which we had researched.
I’d just finished devouring my Chinese takeaway when the front doorbell rang and Darna Del Rosario stood before me in a tight-fitting red sarong and matching sandals grasping a bottle of red.
‘I’ve had another visit from my spooky client Arthur,’ she announced.
‘You’d better come in,’ I suggested.
She looked different from our previous encounter. Her jet-black hair was braided into a plait that reached the small of her back and ended in a red bow. Her sarong dress hung barely much lower than the bow. She’d applied enough make-up to hide her otherwise tell-tale facial wrinkles and her blood-red lipstick was particularly disconcerting. The phrase ‘red letter day’ sprang to mind.
She handed me the wine then arranged herself decoratively across my two-seater living room couch and appeared to be staring me down as I went to find the wine glasses.
‘When was your latest encounter with Arthur?’ I asked.
‘Early this afternoon,’ she replied. ‘He paid me a lot of money to perform a special task.’
‘Oh?’
‘He wanted me to seduce you.’
After a brief hesitation, I placed the empty wine glasses on the coffee table in front of her then took a step back.
‘Does he know you’re reporting to me on him? Or have you been working for him on me from the outset?’
The smile on her face reduced suddenly.
‘Are you saying you don’t trust me Michael?’
I unscrewed the cap from the wine bottle and filled both glasses.
‘Not until I find out more about you Darna. Cheers!’
I raised my glass and kept my eye on her as I savoured its contents. She followed suit and her smile gradually returned.
‘My life’s pretty boring,’ she said. ‘Can we talk about you instead?’
She removed something from her handbag.
‘I’ve brought some pretzels to go with the wine,’ she announced, displaying a packet of Woolworths’ best.
I took them and repaired to the kitchen to empty the packet into a bowl, returning to find her jamming something into her handbag.
‘Let’s toast our beautiful new friendship, Michael,’ she declared, again raising her glass.
‘To new friends,’ I replied and took a gulp of my wine which suddenly tasted bitter.
‘Now,’ she announced, ‘what can I tell you about myself that you don’t already know?’
‘Humour me,’ I replied and sampled one of her pretzels.
She slid off her sandals and pulled her legs underneath her on the couch, sending the sarong up around her waist. I was very glad my wife was not lurking somewhere in the apartment.
‘I was born in Manila,’ she began. ‘We were a large family.’
I went to take another sip of my wine but stopped when the room started to fog up. Without warning, my head was suddenly drooping.
‘Are you alright Michael?’ I heard Darna ask.
There was now a dull ache in my jaw and I could scarcely replace my wine glass on the coffee table.
‘Have you drugged this bloody wine?’ I groaned.
Darna was now moving in several directions at once and the room seemed to be doing the same.
‘Good night my friend,’ I heard her say and somewhere to my right a door closed.
Then the lights went out.
--- o0o ---
The ringing was consistent and the longer it went on the more my head hurt. When it stopped, the haze disappeared back into what seemed to be a black hole.
It was the nausea that finally woke me up. Parts of me were now functioning again; sufficiently to get me crawling on all fours towards the bathroom. How I made it to the toilet bowl in time, remains a mystery.
There I remained, retching and bathed in perspiration. When I no longer had anything inside me left to expel, I managed to prop myself up against the bathroom door and take stock. I’d kicked off my sandals and shed my shorts and t-shirt that were damp from what I hoped was hyperhidrosis. I smelt of vomit and my face felt flaccid. Slowly and painfully, I used a towel rail to steady myself., then, taking a deep breath, I reached across to the shower recess and turned the cold tap onto ‘full’.
I’m not sure how long I sat under the cascade of cool running water from the shower head, but it was enough to get me standing upright. After steadying myself, I wrapped a towel around my waist and swallowed a tumbler of water from the bathroom tap. Exhausted from the effort, I stagged into the living room and collapsed onto the couch where Darna had been sitting.
I focussed on a wall clock opposite and it was showing midday. Through the window another tropical storm was building. I needed to ring my office and looked around for my cell phone. I remembered leaving it on the coffee table but figured Darna had souvenired it after I’d passed out. Zorkov’s techos could well now be interrogating it.
My legs were propelling me in the direction of the hall phone when there was a loud knock on my front door and through the frosted glass two heads were visible. I readjusted the towel around my waist and reached the door, peering through its spyhole.
I recognised the voices on my doorstep even before I caught sight of their owners. I opened the door and two horrified faces greeted me.
‘Boss – what’s happened?’ asked Celina.
I ushered my two young investigators inside, repaired to the bathroom and managed to replace my towel with my damp shorts.
‘We’ve been trying to ring you all morning,’ said Celina as I re-entered the living room.
‘That explains the ringing in my head when I was semi-conscious,’ I replied.
I took hold of Enzo’s elbow.
‘I need a favour,’ I told him. ‘Can you see if my next-door neighbour is in, and if she is kindly march her in to this apartment?’
He did as I asked - I heard him ringing Darna’s doorbell, several times.
‘There’s no one there,’ he called through the open front doorway of my apartment.
‘Of course there isn’t,’ I groaned.
‘Boss, what’s this all about?’ asked Celina who seemed concerned about my physical wellbeing.
I dropped into the nearest chair I could find.
‘Make me a mug of tea, Celina and I’ll fill you both in,’ I managed.
Enzo appeared in my sitting room displaying a front door key.
‘I found this under your neighbour’s welcome mat,’ he announced.
‘Then could you please let yourself into her place with the key and tell me what you find.’
‘That’s trespassing,’ he replied.
‘Not if you have the front door key,’ I suggested.
He was gone for barely two minutes and when he returned, he seemed puzzled.
‘The place is empty,’ he said, ‘Except for the furniture and a few things in the fridge. If someone was living there then they’ve taken all their belongings and bolted. Even seemed to have cleaned up after them.’
He handed me Darna’s door key then eased into a chair opposite me. A few minutes later, Celina appeared with three mugs of tea and a raft of questions. I raised my hand as a thank-you gesture and to halt her interrogation.
For the next ten minutes, I took them through the previous night’s encounter with Darna Del Rosario.
‘My neighbour was on Zorkov’s payroll,’ I concluded, ‘and I’ve just been given a not so gentle reminder that if we don’t play by his rules with our Catch-22 investigation, then he will punish us.’
‘But what are his rules?’ asked Celina.
‘Well for one,’ I suggested. ‘We are to concentrate on investigating the Cunningham family and not him.
‘How do we know the Cunninghams are not simply your average Australian family who he’s using to lead us through some kind of SVR maze?’ asked Enzo.
‘We don’t,’ I admitted. ‘But we need to find out more about the Cunningham family first before we can reach that conclusion.’
‘Strikes me he’s holding all the aces in this,’ Celina noted. ‘Doesn’t that tell us something?’
‘It tells me we need to find out why he has made this approach to us in the first place,’ I suggested. ‘Why turn up on our territory and expose himself the way he has? Is he a Ukrainian Tartar freedom fighter who is working against Putin from within? Another Oleg Penkovskiy† who knows he can best undermine Putin by remaining a well-placed SVR insider?’
‘Or is he just another Yuri Nosenko?’ Enzo wondered, ‘whom the CIA judged to be the classic KGB deception agent, sent to tie the Agency up in knots? And now it’s our turn.’
† Oleg Vladimirovich Penkovsky was a Soviet military intelligence (GRU) colonel during the late 1950s-early 1960s. He passed to British and American intelligence information about Soviet missile build-ups in Cuba, enabling US President John F. Kennedy to face down Soviet leader, Nikita Khrushchev and resolve the Cuban Missile crisis without a nuclear war.
Continued...








