1
Fiction
The Other Panopticon
Original
Chapter 3, Scenes 3 - 5 (10 minute read)
Links to earlier scenes:
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 2
I’d only ever stayed in Singapore one time before and it had been with Julie in the nineties when our marriage had been a lot stronger than it was now.
It had been a virtual second honeymoon. We’d rented an apartment in a luxury high-rise called Fraser Place – in the heart of the Singapore CBD, overlooking Robertson Quay on the banks of the Singapore River. The cost had been exorbitant but the week we’d spent there was probably the best of our marriage. And I still had the phone number for the place.
After changing my return airline booking, I managed to negotiate an overnight stay at one of the Fraser Place apartments for the coming evening – for an obscene amount of money. Hopefully the Australian tax-payer would understand.
I caught a cab to the apartment block and explained to the receptionist there that my bag had not followed me to Singapore. A fully stocked bathroom was some consolation and there was always the well-appointed mini bar to fall back on.
Check-out time the next day was twelve. I messaged Zorkov my destination and he confirmed our 10 am rendez-vous for the coming morning. This time the territorial advantage would be mine.
I rang Enzo in Sydney at around nine that evening. He was still up. He said he and Portia were going to check out an apartment in Darwin only a few blocks from the Christ Church Anglican Cathedral. I told him to put a deposit on the place if it looked half decent.
Early the following morning I rang Jules who told me she’d just arrived at work and couldn’t talk for very long.
‘You planning to get lucky in Singapore?’ she asked when I told her where I was staying.
‘When are you joining me in Darwin?’ I replied, ignoring her quip.
‘Maybe in the school holidays Ronnie and I can visit you up there.’
It was not what I wanted to hear.
‘I meant permanently,’ I growled. ‘Jesus Jules, I miss you both – horribly.’
I heard her sigh then there was silence.
‘Still thinking it about Michael,’ she replied finally. ‘Have fun in Singapore and remember, no spitting in public!’
The phone went dead. Do I still have a marriage – I wondered?
My thoughts now turned in Miller’s direction. Should I keep him up to speed with Zorkov’s change of plans? I had the CIA man’s cell phone number but his explicit instructions had been to only contact him in case of an emergency – and this was not as much an emergency as a change of plans on the Russian’s part.
Miller may as well have been reading my mind. At eight that morning he called my cell phone and began firing questions at me – Where are you? Why are you still in Singapore? Why didn’t you tell me before about your change of plans?’
I told him about my flight change and scheduled meeting with ‘our mutual friend’ later that morning at ten. He took my flight details then hung up. Twenty minutes later he rang back, saying he’d upgraded my return flight ticket to business class and would be occupying the seat next to me on that flight.
‘’There’s something you need to know, Michael, before you set foot back in Darwin. Best you hear it first from me.’
I received a business class ticket confirmation from Miller by email shortly afterwards.
What was so important that I needed to know before I got back to Darwin?
--- o0o ---
I caught an early breakfast on Robertson Quay then wandered around the nearby retail area, exercising my legs rather than my wallet. I half-expected Zorkov to have some of his people in the area – keeping an eye on me, but nothing stood out.
By 9.45 am I was back in my apartment in Fraser Place
At 10 am precisely, my mini transmitter-receiver began buzzing. Zorkov’s message was short and sharp.
‘Meet me quayside,’ it read.
Just what I needed - a stroll in Singapore’s blazing sunlight and stifling humidity, wearing a set of clothes that I’d been occupying for two days.
I booked out of Fraser Place and headed Quayside. Not far from the apartment I saw Zorkov sitting on the edge of the walkway, legs dangling over the edge of the green murky Singapore River. He was in shorts, sneakers and a t-shirt and was protected from the blinding sun by what seemed to be an Akubra hat.
I stood beside him, causing him to tip the rim of his Akubra and look up.
‘Like my Aussie hat?’ he asked. ‘Souvenir from my time in Darwin. I even managed to catch a barramundi fish when I was there. Wonderful part of the world – Darwin.’
I ignored his small talk.
‘It’s way too hot to talk here,’ I growled, shoving my water bottle in my pocket. My dress shirt was now sticking to my chest. I had my suit coat slung over one arm.
He got to his feet and pointed towards a shaded area of the Quay where there was some public seating.
‘Shall we?’
We walked in silence to our destination, both of us intent on our surrounds. When we got there, Zorkov turned and fixed me with what seemed to be a plaintive look.
‘I know you’re working with the Americans on my case,’ he began, ‘but it’s not America I want to live in when I decide to pull the plug. It’s Australia – or more specifically, Darwin.’
We sat down on a shaded bench and I gave him back his penetrating look.
‘Then why in the hell didn’t you pull the plug a few months back when we had you in detention in Darwin?’ I asked.
His look did not waver.
‘I want to dismantle as much of Putin’s Australian operation as I can before coming across,’ he replied. ‘Starting with your local illegals network. That psychopathic dictator has monstered my people in Crimea and Ukraine. I want to repay him for that in the best way I know how. He has killed scores of my family members that he never knew I had.’
On one level – if Zorkov was the real deal for us - this was now making sense. On another – if I was being played – the Zorkov strategy seemed sufficiently plausible to keep me in the game. It was time to start asking some closed questions.
‘Who have you got inside ASIO?’ I began.
He took a long time to answer.
‘Not who but what,’ he said finally.
‘More information please Lvov.’
‘We’re tracking you through your phone,’ he replied.
Bingo!
‘Do you know for sure there is no traitor left inside my Organisation?’
He took a long draw from his water bottle. I followed suit.
‘If there was, then we would not be having this conversation,’ he replied.
That too made sense.
‘Although it’s certainly not for lack of trying,’ he smiled.
‘And on the American front?’
‘Don’t know – not my turf. Anything’s possible there, especially after Ames and Hanssen, besides I didn’t like the way the CIA handled the Nosenko case. Who says I couldn’t end up in Guantanimo Bay, for instance.’
At this point, I really wanted to believe Zorkov. Was ASIO really free from Russian intelligence traitors at this point in its history? Then I thought about the Nosenko case – what if this whole chess game I was engaged in with Zorkov is a Nosenko/Golitsin-style charade, designed to protect the biggest Russian intelligence secret of all – an SVR mole occupying a critical senior portfolio in my Organisation and doing to us what Ames and Hanssen did to the Americans.
‘You need to demonstrate to me how your people have compromised my cell phone,’ I said, taking a few gulps of water from my bottle. ‘Otherwise, I will have to conclude that your knowledge of my movements in and around ASIO over the past six months or so, are a humint rather than technical coup.’
‘I’ll need time for that,’ he replied. ‘In the meantime, stay away from the Americans. I don’t want them in this picture.’
‘Can’t do that I’m afraid, Lvov,’ I replied.
‘Then my safety is compromised and our relationship cannot go any further,’ he replied.
I turned and glared at him.
‘C’mon Lvov Dmitriyevich, I know you aborted our meeting at Harry’s because you knew you were being watched. And you would have quickly concluded that it wasn’t ASIO who was watching you. So it had to be the Agency. And yet, here we are – still chatting away aimlessly about things that go bump in the night.’
My words forced a smile from him.
‘So you’re calling my bluff, Mister ASIO man?’
‘I’m assuring you that only the smallest handful of insiders know of our … er … association, if that’s what you mean?’
‘Why have you brought other players into this when I emphatically asked you not to.’
‘Because, Lvov, I am not an army of one. If you are who you say you are, then I need the wherewithal to protect you and your association with me … us.’
‘You have put my life at risk.’
‘No Lvov, you have done that and now you’re biting the hand that’s offering to feed you.’
‘It means I cannot now risk returning to Moscow at the end of my posting.’
‘Fine, but you can start planning your relocation to our shores, can’t you? When is your posting due to end?’
He drained the remaining water from his bottle.
‘I have a year or two left.’
‘Well, then, start feathering your nest for us, Lvov. Start delivering to us some of those priceless crown jewels you have in your head and if Moscow somehow suspects a leak and things become too hot, find a patsy inside your Residency who you can get Moscow to focus on while you’re keeping us on top of things.’
He stood up, looked around then dropped his empty water bottle into a nearby bin.
‘I will think about what you said then message you,’ he announced. Then, with a smile and a dip of his akubra:
‘Go treat yourself to some underarm (deodorant),’ he suggested, then joined the throng of tourists heading into the nearby retail precinct of Robertson Quay.
--- o0o ---
Cameron Miller gave me a curious look as I joined him at Changi that afternoon at the departure gate.
‘Want to tell me what happened with our inscrutable Russian?’ he asked.
‘Nothing too definitive just yet,’ I replied, ‘But here’s a question for you – how easy would it be for the SVR to spike my cell phone and track me all around the country and beyond?’
‘Difficult,’ he replied, ‘but technically feasible. Why?’
‘What would they have needed to get access to my phone?’
Miller’s brow furrowed.
‘I’m not a techo, Michael,’ he replied. ‘I’d have to ask one of our people who are. Depends, of course, on the type of phone you have and whether you keep it on your person twenty-four seven.’
I pulled my phone from my pocket and gave it to him.
‘State of the art!’ he exclaimed, turning my Motorola RAZR flip-top over in his hand. ‘Government issue?’
‘Yes, but not our Government.’
‘Oh?’
‘Brits bought a batch of them and had one spare. So I grabbed it.’
Miller produced his own cell phone and took a photo of mine, before handing it back.
‘Find out where your Brit contacts sourced your phone,’ he suggested. ‘It’s possible it may already have been spiked before you got it.’
‘Zorkov claims it was spiked and I’ve told him to explain how and when that happened,’ I replied.
Miller nodded
‘What else?’ he asked.
I went through the key points of my two encounters with Zorkov over the past two days. Miller listened without interrupting. His body language was ‘loud’ enough to suggest he was listening actively to me.
The call came for our departure and we boarded straight away – as business class passengers. We now had about five hours to explore the subtext of my two Singaporean encounters with the SVR Resident and hope for a ‘collective wisdom’ solution.
‘Lvov doesn’t want your people in the picture,’ I began. ‘He eventually wants to cross over to us. Seems he likes barramundi fishing, Australian Akubra hats and Darwin in particular.’
‘And until then?’
‘He’s on a mission to do as much damage to Putin’s intelligence apparatus in Australasia as he possibly can. I’ve asked him to authenticate his claims with some crown jewels. We’re already investigating one of his leads – which is why I’ve asked for your technical help.’
Miller shifted awkwardly in his comfortable seat.
‘Why does he have this problem with us?’
‘Says he’s not confident another Ames or Hanssen is not lurking in your background, whereas we – he says – are currently traitor-free.’
‘Which could also mean he’s protecting someone important in your patch.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He also came out on Yuriy Nosenko’s side when we touched on the way the CIA handles its defectors. And said he had no desire to end up in Guantanamo Bay.’
‘Whoa! Hold on there – that’s drawing a pretty long bow Michael!’ the American growled. ‘There’s no way he’d be given that sort of treatment in the States!’
‘Just repeating what he told me, Cameron. But I agree, it does sound a bit paranoid and I don’t think he’s the paranoid type, at least not clinically.’
We sipped our business class champagnes and I could sense Miller was not happy with the state of where this episode with Zorko was at.
The plane started taxiing towards the departure runway and a diligent young female flight attendant was hovering too close to both of us to enable any further discussion on Zorko to take place. We sat back and let the aircraft do the talking. Eventually, Singapore was a panorama beneath us. Then the seat belt signs were switched off.
‘So what do I need to know, Cameron, before I set foot back in Darwin,’ I asked.
To be continued
Aldrich Hazen Ames is an American former CIA counterintelligence officer who was convicted of espionage on behalf of the Soviet Union and Russia in 1994. Robert Philip Hanssen was an American Federal Bureau of Investigation agent who spied for Soviet and Russian intelligence services against the United States from 1979 to 2001.
Yuri Ivanovich Nosenko was a KGB officer who ostensibly defected to the United States in 1964. Controversy arose as to whether or not he was a KGB ‘plant’- sent to discredit an earlier KGB defector to the US: Anatoliy Mikhailovich Golitsyn. Nosenko was held in detention by the CIA for over three years before he was finally judged to be a legitimate defector.
Russian external intelligence service.
Links to earlier scenes:
The Other Panopticon - Synopsis
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 1
The Other Panopticon - Chapter 2
I’d only ever stayed in Singapore one time before and it had been with Julie in the nineties when our marriage had been a lot stronger than it was now.
It had been a virtual second honeymoon. We’d rented an apartment in a luxury high-rise called Fraser Place – in the heart of the Singapore CBD, overlooking Robertson Quay on the banks of the Singapore River. The cost had been exorbitant but the week we’d spent there was probably the best of our marriage. And I still had the phone number for the place.
After changing my return airline booking, I managed to negotiate an overnight stay at one of the Fraser Place apartments for the coming evening – for an obscene amount of money. Hopefully the Australian tax-payer would understand.
I caught a cab to the apartment block and explained to the receptionist there that my bag had not followed me to Singapore. A fully stocked bathroom was some consolation and there was always the well-appointed mini bar to fall back on.
Check-out time the next day was twelve. I messaged Zorkov my destination and he confirmed our 10 am rendez-vous for the coming morning. This time the territorial advantage would be mine.
I rang Enzo in Sydney at around nine that evening. He was still up. He said he and Portia were going to check out an apartment in Darwin only a few blocks from the Christ Church Anglican Cathedral. I told him to put a deposit on the place if it looked half decent.
Early the following morning I rang Jules who told me she’d just arrived at work and couldn’t talk for very long.
‘You planning to get lucky in Singapore?’ she asked when I told her where I was staying.
‘When are you joining me in Darwin?’ I replied, ignoring her quip.
‘Maybe in the school holidays Ronnie and I can visit you up there.’
It was not what I wanted to hear.
‘I meant permanently,’ I growled. ‘Jesus Jules, I miss you both – horribly.’
I heard her sigh then there was silence.
‘Still thinking it about Michael,’ she replied finally. ‘Have fun in Singapore and remember, no spitting in public!’
The phone went dead. Do I still have a marriage – I wondered?
My thoughts now turned in Miller’s direction. Should I keep him up to speed with Zorkov’s change of plans? I had the CIA man’s cell phone number but his explicit instructions had been to only contact him in case of an emergency – and this was not as much an emergency as a change of plans on the Russian’s part.
Miller may as well have been reading my mind. At eight that morning he called my cell phone and began firing questions at me – Where are you? Why are you still in Singapore? Why didn’t you tell me before about your change of plans?’
I told him about my flight change and scheduled meeting with ‘our mutual friend’ later that morning at ten. He took my flight details then hung up. Twenty minutes later he rang back, saying he’d upgraded my return flight ticket to business class and would be occupying the seat next to me on that flight.
‘’There’s something you need to know, Michael, before you set foot back in Darwin. Best you hear it first from me.’
I received a business class ticket confirmation from Miller by email shortly afterwards.
What was so important that I needed to know before I got back to Darwin?
--- o0o ---
I caught an early breakfast on Robertson Quay then wandered around the nearby retail area, exercising my legs rather than my wallet. I half-expected Zorkov to have some of his people in the area – keeping an eye on me, but nothing stood out.
By 9.45 am I was back in my apartment in Fraser Place
At 10 am precisely, my mini transmitter-receiver began buzzing. Zorkov’s message was short and sharp.
‘Meet me quayside,’ it read.
Just what I needed - a stroll in Singapore’s blazing sunlight and stifling humidity, wearing a set of clothes that I’d been occupying for two days.
I booked out of Fraser Place and headed Quayside. Not far from the apartment I saw Zorkov sitting on the edge of the walkway, legs dangling over the edge of the green murky Singapore River. He was in shorts, sneakers and a t-shirt and was protected from the blinding sun by what seemed to be an Akubra hat.
I stood beside him, causing him to tip the rim of his Akubra and look up.
‘Like my Aussie hat?’ he asked. ‘Souvenir from my time in Darwin. I even managed to catch a barramundi fish when I was there. Wonderful part of the world – Darwin.’
I ignored his small talk.
‘It’s way too hot to talk here,’ I growled, shoving my water bottle in my pocket. My dress shirt was now sticking to my chest. I had my suit coat slung over one arm.
He got to his feet and pointed towards a shaded area of the Quay where there was some public seating.
‘Shall we?’
We walked in silence to our destination, both of us intent on our surrounds. When we got there, Zorkov turned and fixed me with what seemed to be a plaintive look.
‘I know you’re working with the Americans on my case,’ he began, ‘but it’s not America I want to live in when I decide to pull the plug. It’s Australia – or more specifically, Darwin.’
We sat down on a shaded bench and I gave him back his penetrating look.
‘Then why in the hell didn’t you pull the plug a few months back when we had you in detention in Darwin?’ I asked.
His look did not waver.
‘I want to dismantle as much of Putin’s Australian operation as I can before coming across,’ he replied. ‘Starting with your local illegals network. That psychopathic dictator has monstered my people in Crimea and Ukraine. I want to repay him for that in the best way I know how. He has killed scores of my family members that he never knew I had.’
On one level – if Zorkov was the real deal for us - this was now making sense. On another – if I was being played – the Zorkov strategy seemed sufficiently plausible to keep me in the game. It was time to start asking some closed questions.
‘Who have you got inside ASIO?’ I began.
He took a long time to answer.
‘Not who but what,’ he said finally.
‘More information please Lvov.’
‘We’re tracking you through your phone,’ he replied.
Bingo!
‘Do you know for sure there is no traitor left inside my Organisation?’
He took a long draw from his water bottle. I followed suit.
‘If there was, then we would not be having this conversation,’ he replied.
That too made sense.
‘Although it’s certainly not for lack of trying,’ he smiled.
‘And on the American front?’
‘Don’t know – not my turf. Anything’s possible there, especially after Ames and Hanssen, besides I didn’t like the way the CIA handled the Nosenko case. Who says I couldn’t end up in Guantanimo Bay, for instance.’
At this point, I really wanted to believe Zorkov. Was ASIO really free from Russian intelligence traitors at this point in its history? Then I thought about the Nosenko case – what if this whole chess game I was engaged in with Zorkov is a Nosenko/Golitsin-style charade, designed to protect the biggest Russian intelligence secret of all – an SVR mole occupying a critical senior portfolio in my Organisation and doing to us what Ames and Hanssen did to the Americans.
‘You need to demonstrate to me how your people have compromised my cell phone,’ I said, taking a few gulps of water from my bottle. ‘Otherwise, I will have to conclude that your knowledge of my movements in and around ASIO over the past six months or so, are a humint rather than technical coup.’
‘I’ll need time for that,’ he replied. ‘In the meantime, stay away from the Americans. I don’t want them in this picture.’
‘Can’t do that I’m afraid, Lvov,’ I replied.
‘Then my safety is compromised and our relationship cannot go any further,’ he replied.
I turned and glared at him.
‘C’mon Lvov Dmitriyevich, I know you aborted our meeting at Harry’s because you knew you were being watched. And you would have quickly concluded that it wasn’t ASIO who was watching you. So it had to be the Agency. And yet, here we are – still chatting away aimlessly about things that go bump in the night.’
My words forced a smile from him.
‘So you’re calling my bluff, Mister ASIO man?’
‘I’m assuring you that only the smallest handful of insiders know of our … er … association, if that’s what you mean?’
‘Why have you brought other players into this when I emphatically asked you not to.’
‘Because, Lvov, I am not an army of one. If you are who you say you are, then I need the wherewithal to protect you and your association with me … us.’
‘You have put my life at risk.’
‘No Lvov, you have done that and now you’re biting the hand that’s offering to feed you.’
‘It means I cannot now risk returning to Moscow at the end of my posting.’
‘Fine, but you can start planning your relocation to our shores, can’t you? When is your posting due to end?’
He drained the remaining water from his bottle.
‘I have a year or two left.’
‘Well, then, start feathering your nest for us, Lvov. Start delivering to us some of those priceless crown jewels you have in your head and if Moscow somehow suspects a leak and things become too hot, find a patsy inside your Residency who you can get Moscow to focus on while you’re keeping us on top of things.’
He stood up, looked around then dropped his empty water bottle into a nearby bin.
‘I will think about what you said then message you,’ he announced. Then, with a smile and a dip of his akubra:
‘Go treat yourself to some underarm (deodorant),’ he suggested, then joined the throng of tourists heading into the nearby retail precinct of Robertson Quay.
--- o0o ---
Cameron Miller gave me a curious look as I joined him at Changi that afternoon at the departure gate.
‘Want to tell me what happened with our inscrutable Russian?’ he asked.
‘Nothing too definitive just yet,’ I replied, ‘But here’s a question for you – how easy would it be for the SVR to spike my cell phone and track me all around the country and beyond?’
‘Difficult,’ he replied, ‘but technically feasible. Why?’
‘What would they have needed to get access to my phone?’
Miller’s brow furrowed.
‘I’m not a techo, Michael,’ he replied. ‘I’d have to ask one of our people who are. Depends, of course, on the type of phone you have and whether you keep it on your person twenty-four seven.’
I pulled my phone from my pocket and gave it to him.
‘State of the art!’ he exclaimed, turning my Motorola RAZR flip-top over in his hand. ‘Government issue?’
‘Yes, but not our Government.’
‘Oh?’
‘Brits bought a batch of them and had one spare. So I grabbed it.’
Miller produced his own cell phone and took a photo of mine, before handing it back.
‘Find out where your Brit contacts sourced your phone,’ he suggested. ‘It’s possible it may already have been spiked before you got it.’
‘Zorkov claims it was spiked and I’ve told him to explain how and when that happened,’ I replied.
Miller nodded
‘What else?’ he asked.
I went through the key points of my two encounters with Zorkov over the past two days. Miller listened without interrupting. His body language was ‘loud’ enough to suggest he was listening actively to me.
The call came for our departure and we boarded straight away – as business class passengers. We now had about five hours to explore the subtext of my two Singaporean encounters with the SVR Resident and hope for a ‘collective wisdom’ solution.
‘Lvov doesn’t want your people in the picture,’ I began. ‘He eventually wants to cross over to us. Seems he likes barramundi fishing, Australian Akubra hats and Darwin in particular.’
‘And until then?’
‘He’s on a mission to do as much damage to Putin’s intelligence apparatus in Australasia as he possibly can. I’ve asked him to authenticate his claims with some crown jewels. We’re already investigating one of his leads – which is why I’ve asked for your technical help.’
Miller shifted awkwardly in his comfortable seat.
‘Why does he have this problem with us?’
‘Says he’s not confident another Ames or Hanssen is not lurking in your background, whereas we – he says – are currently traitor-free.’
‘Which could also mean he’s protecting someone important in your patch.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He also came out on Yuriy Nosenko’s side when we touched on the way the CIA handles its defectors. And said he had no desire to end up in Guantanamo Bay.’
‘Whoa! Hold on there – that’s drawing a pretty long bow Michael!’ the American growled. ‘There’s no way he’d be given that sort of treatment in the States!’
‘Just repeating what he told me, Cameron. But I agree, it does sound a bit paranoid and I don’t think he’s the paranoid type, at least not clinically.’
We sipped our business class champagnes and I could sense Miller was not happy with the state of where this episode with Zorko was at.
The plane started taxiing towards the departure runway and a diligent young female flight attendant was hovering too close to both of us to enable any further discussion on Zorko to take place. We sat back and let the aircraft do the talking. Eventually, Singapore was a panorama beneath us. Then the seat belt signs were switched off.
‘So what do I need to know, Cameron, before I set foot back in Darwin,’ I asked.
To be continued
Aldrich Hazen Ames is an American former CIA counterintelligence officer who was convicted of espionage on behalf of the Soviet Union and Russia in 1994. Robert Philip Hanssen was an American Federal Bureau of Investigation agent who spied for Soviet and Russian intelligence services against the United States from 1979 to 2001.
Yuri Ivanovich Nosenko was a KGB officer who ostensibly defected to the United States in 1964. Controversy arose as to whether or not he was a KGB ‘plant’- sent to discredit an earlier KGB defector to the US: Anatoliy Mikhailovich Golitsyn. Nosenko was held in detention by the CIA for over three years before he was finally judged to be a legitimate defector.
Russian external intelligence service.
