Overview

Political journalist Anita Devlin uncovers a secret plot to overthrow the Gerrard government and becomes the whistleblower. By doing so threatens her future.

Jonathan Wolff, a ruthless political operative, gets results for those who wish to influence government and pay his excessive fee. He will stop at nothing to win, even taking extreme steps where no one is safe from the line of fire.

The Mercantiles, a long-established, clandestine group of high-taxpaying business owners have grown frustrated by Prime Minister Andrew Gerrard’s failure to meet promises, and decide the nation needs a change of government at the upcoming election. They call upon Wolff to organise the defeat of the prime minister.

Anita uncovers the nefarious Wolff strategically manipulating the campaign, and endeavours to expose his influence and manipulation.

Realising he cannot win the election his way, Wolff initiates an explosive campaign designed to remove the prime minister by defeating him in his own electorate. He recruits and then exploits an independent candidate by tapping into the communities’ latent anxiety over immigration policy. The community is subjected to violent demonstrations, triggering increased racist attacks on the streets. Ironically, the candidate Wolff supports — and manipulates to drive the campaign against the prime minister — is Indian immigrant and university professor, Jaya Rukhmani.

With Anita Devlin hot on his trail and unwavering to expose the corruption, Wolff confronts her warning of dire consequences if she progresses with her investigation to expose him.

As election day draws near it becomes obvious the result will be on a knife’s edge and Wolff forces more anarchy on the streets. The Mercantiles get nervous and withdraw their support, but Wolff threatens them to deliver his money and continues his campaign.

Anita remains determined to be the whistle-blower, but does she have the courage it takes to expose Wolff and the Mercantiles? Or will political power overcome the truth in this gripping thriller.

DUPLICITY takes you behind the scenes of an election campaign exposing the manipulation of perceptions so essential to obtaining political power. It’s not corruption, it’s just the way things get done.

Grab this second episode of the Democracy Trilogy by former federal MP, Richard Evans, and speculate who really runs the country. It’s a gripping, page turning thriller with compelling characters that will hold you until the very last page.

Buy DUPLICITY today and follow our politicians in their ruthless push to win power.

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THE DEMOCRACY TRILOGY

The stand-alone political thrillers in THE DEMOCRACY TRILOGY exposes the question: can truth overcome political power?

The Trilogy is a gripping political thriller featuring emotional and surprising plot twists, convincing characters, and exposes the dark-art of politics will have you questioning the ethics of politics and politicians and if Democracy is under threat.

Author Information

THEMES USED IN DUPLICITY

IMMIGRATION

WHO RUNS THE COUNTRY?

POLITICS & THE POLITICAL PROCESS

 

Readers’ Comment

Media

 

Read Chapter 1

DAY ONE – THURSDAY

Robert Wong knocked respectfully on his professor’s wood-panelled office door. Finding it slightly ajar, he peered into the gloom and saw her concentrating on student papers. ‘Professor Rukhmani? Have you got a few moments?’

The professor looked up and smiled as she recognised the student, pushing her marking pen into her tied-back hair. ‘Sure Robert, come in. I’ve been meaning to contact you about your last paper.’

Wong tentatively ventured into the overstuffed office, wondering where he could sit.

‘Grab a seat. Here, pass me that pile of papers.’

He removed the large stack of student work from the chair and the professor slapped them onto another pile behind her. There seemed no order to the paper chaos surrounding the walls of the office, even the floor seemed to overflow with it.

‘You seem really busy, sorry to interrupt.’

‘No, not at all. I welcome the break. Don’t worry about the mess—’ The professor laughed, a little embarrassed by the state of her office. ‘It’s always like this. I seem to know where everything is though,’ she said dreamily, perhaps thinking she should be more organised.

Wong sat on the edge of the chair, a little nervous about talking to his politics professor about his grand idea. Leaning slightly right so as to see around a high stack of papers on her desk, he asked apprehensively, ‘What did you want to discuss with me about my paper?’

‘This interesting idea you have about the legacy of Obama being a reason the Republicans eventually lost Congress and the presidency.’ The professor reached up behind her toward another stack of papers, flicked up two assignments and with a quick flourish, withdrew Wong’s paper with her attached notes. ‘We haven’t studied Saul Alinsky and his doctrine for community organising, so I wanted to ask why you referred to him so much in your paper. In particular, his nineteen-seventies ideas of collective community action to achieve political outcomes. Don’t you think these ideas might be a little dated?’

‘Just like everyone else in the United States, President Obama never accepted the legitimacy of Donald Trump as president, becoming, I think, very protective of his own legacy. It seems to me he encouraged his supporters to resist Trump by strategically initiating a targeted campaign against the president during the first term. It is highly unusual for a retiring president to remain politically active – even more so during the next election campaign. Bush, for instance, never campaigned against Obama.’

Wong opened his canvas satchel and fleshed around, pulling out a tattered book. ‘I found Alinsky’s handbook in a second-hand bookstore a few weeks back. The campaign methods correlate with how Obama ran his entire administration for eight years – and his community activism after he left office.’

The professor took the dog-eared book and carefully flicked through it. ‘Alinsky was considered radical—’ The professor paused as she flicked the pages. Without looking at her student she asked, ‘Do you think Obama was a radical socialist?’

‘Not really. Actually, I don’t really know. Probably not, not strictly, but there is strong evidence that Obama was subtly using Alinsky’s suggestions to incite division in the community.’

The professor smiled as she leaned back in her chair. ‘That’s a big claim. Can you cite any examples?’

‘Well, in my view, there are plenty.’ Wong sat forward, shifting the stack of papers aside to lean on the desk. ‘During his time as president, Obama was consistent in blaming wealthy Americans for the social problems that beset the United States, especially after the financial crisis. He often suggested low-income earners were the victims of the greed of the wealthy and was always quick to support accusations of racism against police when black or brown Americans were involved – even when there was little evidence of actual racism.

In other words, he rubbed raw the resentment toward the police and the political system with his rhetoric – which mostly focused on the black community – and agitated almost to the point of inciting conflict. This could be interpreted as classic Alinsky teachings. His rules for radicals basically says: look for ways to increase insecurity, anxiety, and uncertainty in the community. No-one could deny the increased community demonstrations after Trump won.’

‘Oh sure, who could forget. Everyone came out to demonstrate and many didn’t even know why. They were angry with the result of the election and hate was stoked – it didn’t help that Trump was an obnoxious dud either.’

‘In my view, a lot of that disorder was driven by one of Obama’s supporter groups, Organizing for America,’ suggested Wong, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

‘What makes you think Obama was instrumental in Trump’s ultimate defeat?’

‘The OFA started campaigning immediately after Trump won office. Every time Obama spoke, he incited community action to reclaim America. Remember he was out in the hustings on a regular basis asking citizens to resist and reclaim? And he hardly ever mentioned Trump by name; he just referred to the many challenges and lies from the administration.

‘Like everyone else, he didn’t think Trump was worthy of high office, framing him as an enemy of American values. Everyone spoke against the president, community action groups mobilised, and it virtually became a community revolution, which is classic Alinsky.

‘In 2018 there were many congresswomen and men elected for the Democrats who came from a community movement. I found out the OFA recruited over fifty thousand community organisers to be disruptive against the administration by organising anti-Trump events.’ Wong paused for a moment. ‘They then drove the mail ballot vote and got out and secured those ballots for Biden in 2020.’

Wong reached back for his book, admiringly flicking through the pages before putting it back into his satchel. ‘When you think about it, Obama was a little more politically covert than historians give him credit for. In my view, he was very manipulative and massaged his image extremely well. Obama is still loved the world over in lots of ways, but the truth is, he didn’t achieve much as president – yet history has been very kind toward him, recording him as one of the best.’

‘Interesting. I hadn’t thought to link any influence of Alinsky on Obama. I probably wouldn’t share your view – there are a lot of differing thoughts when it comes to politics – but you have made a good case for it in your paper, so well done.’

‘Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes these organised community tactics get things done – it is used a lot more by the major parties in a lot of western democratic countries at the moment.’

‘Create division in the community and force the government to provide a solution.’

‘Exactly.’ Wong leaned back into his chair with a big smile, enjoying the moment with his favourite professor. ‘The Democrats in the States, especially in places like Chicago, have been influenced by this kind of community organisation strategy for years – we now see it in action at most elections.

‘This is the new power, I imagine. Community groups are getting organised and campaigning on single issues impacting elections. They are usually well organised too, just like these so-called progressive parties emerging in Australia. And it’s the reason, I think, Andrew Gerrard has been prime minister for so long.’

‘Not because of his policies?’

‘I think he’s a populist prime minister who speaks directly to the have-nots in the community in order to maintain his power. He wedges policy all the time, but I finally sense a mood for change.’

‘You think the electorate is in the mood to change the government?’

‘Gerrard has made some really provocative procedural reforms to the parliament over recent years yet remains popular because he subtly drives community division on other policy. He is silent on his parliamentary reforms, which suggests to the electorate there’s nothing to see. His party is better organised, using a whole raft of causes to get people out supporting him. Gerrard does exactly what Alinsky suggests – he picks a target, frames it to his advantage then personalises it, polarising the community to get active.’

Professor Rukhmani squeezed a slight admiring smile as she listened to her A-grade student.

‘Get discontented voters who believe society is fundamentally unjust to take their lead from community organisers speaking about unfairness and suddenly you have a revolution.’

‘One Nation and the other conservative groups?’ she asked.

‘Exactly. They’re growing because the conservatives are not strategically geared to organise the community. They seem too pompous to do anything other than act ethically, which is probably why they have remained in opposition for nearly twenty years. They don’t want anything to do with the socially and economically handicapped, which leaves a gap in their policy for One Nation and others to fill.’

Rukhmani’s chair squeaked as she leaned back. ‘Are you going to use your study to advance a political career?’

Wong chortled a little, then said, ‘That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.’ The student leaned forward again with a broad, excited smile. ‘Why don’t you seek preselection for the federal election? I could be your campaign manager.’

The professor raised her eyebrows, flinging her arms out as if on a cross and looking to the ceiling in mock shock.

‘You’re kidding me, right?’ the professor scoffed as she straightened to address Wong. ‘And anyway, the election is too far into the future to even contemplate such a preposterous idea.’

‘Haven’t you been listening to the news?’ Wong said, tossing his hands into the air in bogus exasperation as he sat back.

‘If I could find my radio within this mess—’ the professor looked glumly about her office. ‘I’d be listening to music.’

‘Haven’t you heard about using technology, Professor?’ The student sassed her. ‘The government has been sacked by the governor-general.’

‘What?’ Rukhmani bolted upright in her chair. ‘When?’

‘About an hour ago. Apparently, the speaker resigned, and the clerk prorogued the parliament, or something like that.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ Rukhmani fell back into her chair. Bewildered by the news, she ran her fingers absent-mindedly through her tied thick hair.

‘There’s a federal election called for the ninth of December, and it’s anyone’s guess what will happen. I hope Gerrard loses.’

‘They say a week is a long time in politics, and this week has been awful.’ The professor slowly shook her head before slapping her hands to her thighs. ‘This is unbelievable. First, we lose politicians in a tragic plane crash, and now this – unbelievable.’

‘But with every misfortune comes opportunity,’ Wong smiled, nodding excitedly with eyes wide. ‘So, are you going to run in the election?’

‘Me? No! Why?’

‘You teach this stuff. Why not get real-life experience from an election campaign?’ Wong was almost bouncing in the chair, his tongue squeezed between his teeth. ‘We could treat it as a case study and film it for further academic analysis and research. We can have a website with our own social-media feed, and you could publish a daily diary linking back to theory.’

‘Hmm, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea,’ said Rukhmani, screwing up her face as she considered the idea. ‘For starters, the university would never allow it ethically and secondly, which party would I even stand for?’

‘Does it matter? We could only do this in a seat where you couldn’t win.’

‘The conservatives would never endorse me, and the socialists challenge me with their extreme liberalism. The Greens, well? Yeah, nah. Not a good idea.’

‘Either major party could select you in a seat that no-one cares about – and they think they will lose.’

‘Such as?’

Wong laughed like a young child wanting to blurt out a secret. ‘Why not run against Gerrard in Melbourne,’ he announced triumphantly. ‘It would be a fantastic story for the media, and we could have some really great fun.’ He was speaking staccato-like, his tone rising and quickening.

‘You’ll get preselected easily if you make an application, I’m positive. But we’ll need to move today. I’ll run your campaign for you, and you’ll get an applied political experience from the campaigning. This has got to be a great case study for you. We run the daily diary online and as I say link it to political theory. Plenty of your students would be willing to help. We may even get a documentary out of it.’

‘What about constitutional issues?’

Wong’s eyebrows raised, ‘Which ones?’

‘Citizenship, and perhaps office of profit.’

Wong considered the question for a moment, pinching his chin between his forefinger and thumb. ‘We renounce any citizenship duality immediately just to make sure, and you apply for extended leave from the university, just for a month, before you submit your application.’

‘That’s a ridiculous idea,’ said Rukhmani, punching a pointed finger at Wong. ‘Anyway, the conservatives would never select anyone like me to run against Gerrard.’ The professor placed her elbow on the desk clutter, tapping her fingers to her mouth and reflecting on the idea. ‘It took them years and years to have Italians and Greeks elected who weren’t born in Australia – they would never preselect an Indian woman federally.’

‘You wouldn’t be expected to win Melbourne against Gerrard. And there’s always a first time for selecting an Indian woman. Think of the media you would generate.’

‘I’m the wrong skin colour for Australians.’

‘We’ve had plenty of people with colour elected. Remember the Kenyan senator from South Australia? There’s still a Koori man in the Senate, and Speaker Bagshaw is Indigenous.’

‘Yes, but they’re not as black as me.’

***

‘It’s over.’ Prime Minister Gerrard sat at his parliamentary office desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gave the news to his friend the president of Indonesia. ‘The earliest we can get the money to you will be February.’

‘That is not good for me.’

‘There is nothing I can do about it now. I’m officially not prime minister for now.’

‘That is a sad news, my friend. I will now have to withdraw the order for clemency on your citizens.’

‘Amir, come on. You can’t execute them now just because you won’t get your money until next year. It’s only a few months, for fuck’s sake.’

‘There is no guarantee that the money will be transferred next year. You may not win the election.’

‘I will win the fucking election and I’ll get you your money!’ Gerrard barked into the phone.

‘Andrew, I cannot be sure, so I will stop all site works for the immigration detention centre on Ambon, withhold the clemency order on your drug-trafficking citizens, and recall my ambassador. You can forget any deal we may have had.’

‘What! Why?’

‘My country cannot trust you to maintain your word. If you want to regain our confidence, I suggest you win the election.’

***

‘I blame you actually,’ Anita Devlin said as she sipped sparkling wine from a plastic disposable cup.

‘For what, exactly?’ Barton Messenger had brought a bottle to the second-floor newsroom in the Federal Parliamentary Press Gallery to celebrate the events of the day. An allegedly corrupt prime minister being sacked was definitely something to celebrate.

‘I had the chance to get a front-page byline in the national newspaper and now your mob will be plastered all over the first eight pages.’

‘You can still run with your story.’

‘It’s only wild speculation now that Gerrard’s funding legislation wasn’t passed. The story about him ripping off the government is literally in the bin.’ Anita proffered her flimsy cup for more. Messenger obliged with a splash that sent a foam rinse over her hand. She quickly swapped hands, flicking her wet hand dry. ‘What happens now?’

‘We go to a general election, and hopefully we come back as the elected government.’

‘Would you still fund Gerrard’s detention centres in Indonesia?’

‘Probably, since ironically it remains part of our policy.’ Messenger pushed back on the legs of his chair, putting a foot on Anita’s desk. ‘We’ll guarantee to pay the stimulus package to the electorate before Christmas to nullify it as an election issue for the punters, and when we come back to the parliament, we’ll scrutinise the Indonesian funding going offshore a little more rigorously than we did this week.’

Anita took a sip and contemplated Barton, a curious smile lingering as she watched him. ‘So, you could be deputy prime minister in a month?’

‘Seems I could be, yes. Would that create a problem for you?’

‘Not at all.’ Anita smiled as she gulped down her cup and proffered it for more celebratory bubbles. ‘The question is, will I be a problem for you?’

‘You already are,’ Messenger joked.

‘So, no exclusives from you then?’ Anita teased.

‘I can absolutely guarantee you to be exclusive,’ Messenger laughed, as he looked at her. ‘If you’re interested.’

Anita also laughed, comfortable with the thought of having Barton Messenger in her life. ‘Can I get an invitation to Yarralumla sometime?’

‘Would you like to live there?’ Messenger slyly smiled.

She suddenly sat upright, almost out of her chair. Anita chortled, ‘Did you just propose?’

‘No.’ Barton responded gruffly. ‘I’m only teasing. We’re yet to even have that first dinner date you promised me.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

‘I have a very early flight tomorrow for an emergency campaign meeting in Melbourne, so if it’s not a late one, let’s go Chinese.’

‘Good idea. Let me pack up and have a chat to Cleave. I can either meet you downstairs at the Reps entrance or at the restaurant, you choose.’

‘I’ll see you downstairs. In about thirty minutes?’

‘Sure, sounds great.’

Messenger crushed his cup and flicked it into the bin. He kicked himself out of the chair, saying goodbye as he left Anita.

She began by tidying her desk, filing scraps of paper into her various resource boxes and trays. Anita assumed she would be assigned to cover major policy announcements during the election campaign and provide political profiles of the leaders for the weekend editions. This would mean crisscrossing the country, living out of a suitcase for over a month, probably from the coming weekend, with little time for a social life. She mused her dinner with Barton might be the last opportunity to enjoy herself before Christmas.

Peter Cleaver was sitting at his desk when she knocked and entered. He looked up and motioned for her to sit as he finished reading what seemed to be an article ready for publication. The experienced political editor supported Anita in her recent pursuit of the prime minister, but parliamentary events overtook the potential exclusive. He pulled out a bent cigarette from a soft pack and lit it, sucking hard and breathing deeply – and ignoring the convention of a no-smoking workplace – before billowing smoke above her head.

‘Your story raises an interesting connection between Gerrard and Indonesia and is very good. I can’t run it now given today’s events, but I think we should file it to use if Gerrard wins the election.’

‘There’s not much point now. The scrutiny of the legislation will be much better when it goes before parliament again. This alleged secret commission we identified will either be taken out or much better explained by the government.’

Cleaver pulled off his glasses and rubbed his face, cigarette dangling from his lips. ‘Even so, I think we might be able to use it, so I sent it off to the boss.’

‘Who? Your boss?’

‘No, Hancock. I was pretty sure he would be interested, given he’s a mate of Gerrard’s.’

‘Was he?’

‘He liked it and asked if you would write more like it for the campaign.’

‘Like what?’ Anita waved an uncomfortable hand in front of her face to clear the smoke. ‘Does he think a conspiracy lies behind every campaign sign?’

‘No. What he wants you to do is write special interest stories during the campaign, sketches of the remarkable political things that happen every day. Providing a sort of human element to the lying morons if that is possible.’

‘You’re kidding me. I’m not a social diarist, we have those in Sydney.’

‘Hancock has requested you to do it.’ Cleaver replaced his glasses and drew heavily on his cigarette, provoking a rasping cough. He roughly stubbed it out in an over-full saucer. ‘Fairly insistent, actually.’

‘I’m an investigative journalist, Cleave. I don’t write crap, you know that.’

‘We’re not asking you to write crap, Anita. We want the hard stories from the campaign.’

‘You don’t want policy analysis?’

‘Nope, I’ve assigned two others to do that.’

‘Hard news?’ Anita said, sarcastically. ‘You want me to write hard news?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where the hell do you think these stories lie if I don’t analyse policy?’

Cleaver leaned back with his hands behind his head and a broad smile. ‘That’s for you to find out. You’re the investigative journalist, are you not?’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ Anita stood. ‘I won’t accept crap like that.’ She stared at Cleaver, angrily gnawing her upper lip. ‘Where do you want me to go?’

‘Start with the opposition, work your contacts,’ Cleaver smirked. ‘How is Messenger?’

‘Don’t shit me, Cleave,’ snapped Anita, shaking her head. She looked to the ceiling. ‘How many words do you expect?’

‘I want something every day. Your pieces can range from a gossip tidbit to a substantial feature – that’s up to you.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Anita began prowling slowly in front of her editor’s desk. ‘You have no idea how this will work out. It’s just a damn demotion. Why?’ she whined loudly. ‘You know the work I put into the last election. I even got a Walkley for it. This is crap.’

‘As I said, Anita, this has come from Hancock himself, so I suggest you get focused on the campaign.’

‘Hard news?’ Anita chided, a little sceptical. ‘You just want puff pieces, that’s what they’ll turn out to be.’

‘That’ll be your call.’

‘I’m so sick to death of this business and the dark art of mate’s politics. This misogynistic crap lies everywhere and nowhere more so than in this fucking office.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You’ve shafted me, just like Gerrard was shafted today, and you have no answer as to why.’ Anita stopped pacing and stood before Cleaver with both hands on her hips. ‘Gerrard was about to commit a fraud and I broke the story,’ she thumbed her chest. ‘Now I’ve been relegated to the backbench as election campaign social commentator because he’s a mate of Hancock’s.’

‘That’s not the case.’

‘Then explain why this is happening to me if it’s not mates looking after mates.’

‘We want a different tone and perspective from the campaign, rather than having to compete with social media. We want you to write stories with a bit of grunt.’

‘So, no social crap?’ Anita aggressively stood before him, now with both hands clenched on her hips.

‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ Cleaver nonchalantly replied, pulling another bent cigarette from his pack.

‘Will I be free to travel to either campaign?’

‘Yes, but can you concentrate on Stanley’s first, before looking at Gerrard.’

‘I can’t believe this.’ Anita looked to the ceiling, tapping her right foot slightly. ‘How do you want me to handle the sacking of the government?’

‘Not actually a sacking, was it?’

She sighed heavily and asked, ‘What would you call it, a resignation?’

‘Politics is only ever about power, Anita. You either have it or you don’t.’

‘So obviously, as a woman, I don’t have any power in this fucking men’s cave. Journalistic ethics have little to do with it either.’

‘Just do as we ask, please, Anita.’ Cleaver implored her, torching his cigarette with a flame, and drawing in the smoke deeply. He managed to get out, ‘Then everyone’ll be happy,’ before rasping a cough.

‘Except for me,’ said Anita. She turned on her heel and stomped from the office. ‘Those things will kill you, by the way.’ She slammed the glass door, rattling the entire office partitioning, kicked a nearby bin creating a storm of papers, grabbed her bag and left knowing she would eventually calm down.

‘Fucking men shit me!’ she barked as she marched toward the stairwell.