What is life but a series of short stories, some that stand alone, some that are connected, some that are intertwined, and all leading forward and back; where the journey may be the story.
Throsstle To strive for something without having thought it through or having sufficient will or persistence to achieve it; to be in a state of strivation. Thomas Bulford’s English Companion
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Extract from The Australian Biographical Dictionary, Melbourne Opportunity Press, 2015
John (Jack) Bateman Macneill, OAM, was born in South Morang, Victoria, in 1960. His parents were itinerant school teachers, father Jon (himself the son of a Malayan rubber planter and WW2 PoW) specialising in secondary school science, mother Helen in early childhood development (she traced her genealogy back to 1840s immigrants to the Port Phillip colony). Macneill’s education was somewhat disjointed, but this did not prevent him from attaining a solid education, or interfere with his love of sports and chess. His matriculation results would have allowed him entry to any university, but he elected to join the Victoria police force, where he served in various capacities, including CIB and forensics. In his time with VicPol he completed a Diploma in Criminology and a Bachelor of Arts, also acquiring the nom de guerre of “The Baiter”, which was both a play on his middle name and his unique strategy of laying out “baits” to solve cases. This, and his attention to detail, resulted in an almost unparalleled 97.9% arrest rate and a 98.7% conviction rate. He was seconded to the Australian Federal Police to assist in the investigations into the first Bali bombings (2002), for which he was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia (First Class). Subsequently, he formally transferred to the AFP, rising to the rank of Commander, where his last case was the notorious–but strangely under-reported–Four Hander Conspiracy.
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Everything I say is a lie. Liar’s Paradox, Wikipedia
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Chronology Year 1909 1912 1920 1938 1939, Sep 1 1939, Sep 3 1940, May 10 1941 1941, Dec 5 1941, Dec 7 1941, Dec 8 1941, Dec 11 1941, Dec 25 1942, Jan 14 1942, Feb 19 1942, Aug 3 1942, Oct 28 1945, Aug 6 1947 1950, Jun 25 1952 - Aug 17 1956 1960, Feb 29 1963, Dec 28 1965 1972, Dec 2 1975 1979, Apr 12 1980, Jan 12
Event Flo born in the desert Merry’s maternal grandfather born in England Kam Foong born in Tronoh (Malaya) Fleur born in Holland Kitty born World War 2 officially begins Germans occupy Holland Merry’s grandfather enlists in Australian army; her father born Mac seduces Kam Foong Japanese troops invade Malaya, two hours before attacking Pearl Harbor Phang Lit takes to the jungle; later rescues Kam Fong (Hope’s grandmother) USA enters WW2 Allies establish defensive positions around Ipoh Mac’s sister’s dies in Singapore Singapore surrenders Chen Choo (Pearl) born Mac’s battalion leaves for Thai-Burma railway Atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima Merry’s grandfather commits suicide Korean War begins Twiggy becomes a parent Mac takes up a fatal challenge Olympic Games in Melbourne Merry born Sue and Ian marry Merry and Flo visit Kitty in prison Amber born in a Kalgoorlie brothel Gough Whitlam elected Australian Prime Minister Merry experiences a range of behaviours Chen Choo marries Matty at Melbourne University Mei See (Hope) born, in Werribee 7
1981 1983 1988, Jan 26 1989, Nov 9 1999 2001, Sep 11 2001, Dec 12 2002, Oct 12 2003, June 15 2004 - Dec 26 2005 2005, Feb 15 2006, Dec 14 2007, Aug 18 2009, Jan 20 2011, Mar 11 2013, Aug 29 2013, Nov 11 2014, Feb 2014 ? 2014, Sep 1 2015, Sep 14 2015, Dec 7 2015, Dec 11 2016, June 6 2016, Dec 19 2016, Sep 1 2017, Mar 29 2017, May 9
Merry in Broome; turns 21. Merry meets Jack Australia’s bi-centenary of European settlement East Germany opens Berlin Wall Merry discovers who her boarder really is Terrorists destroy World Trade Centre, New York Judge delivers her decision on Merry, who appeals. Bali bombing Fleur sentenced; appeals Merry begins her sentence Fleur begins her sentence Indian Ocean tsunami kills 167,540 Hope kills her biological grandfather YouTube launched Hope sentenced; appeals Hope’s appeal rejected Barak Obama inaugurated as first Afro-American President of the USA Massive earthquakes and tsunami hit Japan, killing around 20,000 Merry applies for parole; first hint of mystery offer Merry released Ebola virus breaks out in Africa Amber returns to Kalgoorlie Fleur released First observation of gravitational waves Jack assigned to his last case Body found in Little Desert Twiggy dies Donald Trump wins US Presidential election Minor author begins short prison sentence UK begins process to exit European Union AFP given additional $321 million in Federal budget
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Wednesday, September 2nd 2014 My dear Fleur. Welcome to freedom, and opportunity. The Blue Mountains are so beautiful, aren’t they. Give my regards to the three sisters. You have had many travails over the last years and you deserve a new life. We want to offer you the opportunity to create this. Reply to my message on your phone and we will send you details. Friday, October 16th 2015 I’m sorry for being so dramatic the other day–sometimes I simply cannot refrain from showing off. I was afraid that my note might have been a little too cryptic. I regard myself as a Planetary Person, a Citizen of the World. I believe that we all have a duty to others, especially where, like you, they have had their lives brutally interrupted. Where time may be running out. Where I can help. We know what we are, but not what we may be. What might you be, with a little help? We are an International Foundation established immediately after World War II to make our world better by supporting a limited number of very special people. It is unlikely that you will be able to determine very much about us, but let me say that as a group we are interested in humanity. We can help financially. We are offering $20 million. Yes, $20 million is a lot of money, but not for us. Yes, if it appears too good to be true it is almost certainly too good to be true. But please note the qualifier “almost”. Dear friend. We expected that you would want to verify our bona fides. Accordingly, our legal counsel, Mossack Fonseca, have been instructed to confirm, to only four people (whose given names and sentencing dates they have on file, which they will provide you with–your code is JRRT), the legal status of the Fewtures Foundation. Tuesday, December 1st 2015 My dear friend. It is so wonderful to know that your years of trial–no pun intended–and far from home, have finally drawn to a close. Prison is, or can be, a very unpleasant experience. Your life, and especially your future–you believe–are not under your control, that you are being shaped by others, who, you are sure, have little regard for you as a person. I am in a position to change that. Thursday, December 3rd 2015 My friend. What I will tell you about in due course, if you seek to win the prize that we are offering, must be kept in the strictest confidence. Thursday, December 3rd 2015 Yes my friend, the prize is a very large sum of money. Thursday, December 3rd 2015 It is, as I said, considerable. Exactly how much I must refrain from telling you until we are certain of your participation, commitment, and iron-clad discretion. Thursday, December 3rd 2015 Now that is a very good question and you should have an answer. First, you were each mature people, with sensible histories (showing no signs of homicidal tendencies). Second, you all lived 9
and were raised in different environments. Third, it is not certain that you intended to commit the crime. This is very important. Finally, you had plans for the future (even though you may not have realised this).
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Friday, December 4th 2015 No, you must ask your own questions; we will not tell you what any of the others have asked or how we answered (if we did). Saturday, December 5th 2015 I am so pleased to hear from you again–I always knew that you would. I agree that, at this point, it would be only fair of me to reveal my name but, as I truly believe that you understand that life isn’t fair–whether you are a mature woman or a frog–I shall decline the opportunity. However, it is now time to provide you with the next piece of information, to assist you in your thinking. Please open the Attachment, where you will find the first names of four people (yours being one), each accompanied by a key date. Saturday, December 5th 2015 That is most gratifying indeed. We had considerable faith, but the proof of the pie is in the eating. The first test, which will allow you to proceed towards the great prize, is to identify the other three people. Saturday, December 5th 2015 Thank you, my dear friend, that is a wonderful project. Now, to begin your formal engagement with us we need you to provide us with evidence that you know who the other three people are, and where they live. Saturday, December 5th 2015 Yes, everyone has received exactly the same messages. although naturally adjusted according to location and what is being asked. Tuesday, December 8th 2015 Of course I am aware of metadata–I have my own Facebook page. Tuesday, December 8th 2015 No, it is unlikely that we will give you more information. It should be enough to have each person’s given name and the date of sentencing. Tuesday, December 8th 2015 No, my friend, “playing the game” is not an appropriate phrase. We are a highly reputable, though shy, organisation, conducting significant multi-anthropological research. However, you are correct in assuming that there are one or two requirements. Your history has certainly qualified you to participate, and we have no reason to believe that you are not still suitable. To progress, please send us a three-page PDF file outlining how you would invest the prize. Wednesday, December 9th 2015 Our Foundation is many, but the time has come for us to select new Honourable Members. Maybe you will be one such. Thursday, December 10th 2015 That is, indeed, one of the other participants. Our faith in your intelligence and persistence has been nicely validated. Congratulations. Thursday, December 10th 2015 11
My dear, thank you for your email, which was not altogether unanticipated. Of course your name is on their list! Although, being only your first name it could actually belong to dozens, if not hundreds or thousands of others! Thursday, December 10th 2015 My dear, I would be delighted if you would call me your NetPal! That is exactly how we feel about you!
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Friday, December 11th 2015 That is an excellent question. Your mind gives us great joy. Yes, you are correct: not everyone might be recorded officially with the name they are usually known by. Monday, December 14th 2015 No, as I have said before, we have provided each of you with the correct information, in nature and number, and adequate for the task. Twenty million dollars–more if you can satisfy other conditions–should not be easily won. We will not tell you anything more about the others, nor will we tell the others anything more about you. Monday, December 14th 2015 My friend! This is something new! A scientist would not investigate something that she knew the answer to. A writer would not want to regurgitate a Barbara Cartland novel. Monday, December 15th 2015 Yes, of course you should ask. I can see why we both love cryptic crosswords. Monday, December 15th 2015 We were delighted to hear from you again! That is a most wonderful goal! As Mao said, the longest journey begins with the first step. Or was it Gollum! Thursday, December 17th 2015 My dearest, dearest friend. Do not apologise. It is your absolute right, as a rational human being, to select whatever decision you think best. But have you factored in the decisions of others?
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Tuesday, Saturday, December 19th 2015 Yes, I think it is exceedingly wise of you to believe it is your name, as the odds would be very high against it being anyone else’s, given that date. As for your other question, at this point I can see no reason to continue with these communications–you have all the information necessary to achieve success and get on with turning that impossible dream into reality. Saturday, December 19th 2015 We understand–and anticipated–your concern. The money has been deposited in a Swiss bank and a retrieval code will be sent to you when you provide suitable evidence. Saturday, December 19th 2015 I have not heard from you for some time. This saddens us, as our offer, which you have not yet seen, will change your life for ever. Saturday, December 19th 2015 It is likely that your lack of response will have serious consequences. Sunday, December 20th 2015 A paradox becomes a cliché the moment it is understood–which is to say, never. Sunday, December 20th 2015 My friend. You have been highly perspicacious, in both your questioning and your choice of project. It is clear that you have given the opportunity considerable thought, and may be ready for the next step. Would it overly concern you if this was to cause some distress and perhaps involve some danger?
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Tuesday, December 29th 2015 Dear friend, we were very excited to read about your investment plan, and to know that you will be working on it with your friend. The prize is $20 million, not $5 million. Tuesday, December 29th 2015 $20 million each; each person who achieves the goal will receive that amount. Thursday, December 31st 2015 We already knew that you had verified our credentials. Saturday, January 2nd 2016 My dear. I have not heard from you. Did you receive my message? Saturday, January 2nd 2016 Dear friend. I have been having very pleasant conversations with the others but that delight is yet to be mine, in your case. I hope you are well and able to contact me as you will be very excited about my offer. Saturday, January 2nd 2016 Dear friend. How shall I put this? We are disappointed and beg you not to make us most disappointed. Sunday, January 3rd 2016 Need I say, we do, in fact, know where you live. Sunday, January 3rd 2016 Yes, my dear, we have assessed your project and believe that, to properly implement it, you would need approximately $20 million. We can help you with this.
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Wednesday, January 6th 2016 That does not concern us: as you must have noticed earlier, none of our messages can be found on any device or on paper after they have been read. Friday, January 8th 2016 Dear Friends. It is a delight to see action, but we must have evidence. Tuesday, January 12th 2016 My dear friend. Please take your time, but you are beginning to take too much time. The others have replied and are no doubt doing their homework. Wednesday, January 13th 2016 It appears that that death was by natural causes, unconnected to this project. Tuesday, January 19th 2016 Dear friends. We are pleased to confirm that our selected quartet is now in place. Friday, January 22nd 2016 My dear friend, you are trying our patience. Silence is golden, but it is not a viable strategy in the present context. The deadline approaches. ] Jan 22 Tuesday, January 26th 2016 My phone is encrypted.
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Monday, February 29th 2016 Dearest friends. The considering time has now lapsed. Congratulations. You can proceed. You each have a very worthwhile project, which we are happy to confirm that we will support. In fact, we have been so impressed with what you want to achieve, and with your perspicacity and persistence, that we have decided to make you an additional offer. We will add $5,000,000 for a second person. Not only that, a third person will also be worth $5,000,000. And–this is the ultimate challenge–we will double the reward if you are all, shall we say, departed. There is no need to respond.
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2015, Monday, December 7th, morning
A Little Job
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etadata. He’d watched Senator Brandis, trying to explain it on 7.30. And the PM–the then PM!–umming and aahing, repeating effing everything that somehow found its way out of his mouth. Labor trying to keep away from the cameras but backgrounding all and sundry about the impending collapse
of the sky, if not the universe, not to mention civilisation and why branch-stacking was not necessarily a bad thing. It wasn’t news then, anyway, not since WikiLeaks and their mate Snowden. Abbott?! Abbott v Turnbull; Abbott v Rudd; Abbott v Gillard; Abbott v Rudd; Abbott v Turnbull. A near death experience?! He should try a week at Nauru, or Manus.1 Should’ve been with us in Bali. But the AFP was happy. Very happy indeed. This was sus-pected, but not widely known. ‘Come in, Jack.’ His boss was obviously in a good mood. ‘We’ve got a little job for you...right up your alley.’ No such thing as a little job. ‘I’m retiring, Don, clearing out the desk.’ Even the cleaners knew that wasn’t true, and, besides, it would take more time than Jack had left before the gold watch, even if he had the motivation to embark on the task in the first place. A desk jockey he was not. ‘Just a small case. You can wrap it up in five minutes. We thought you’d like a bit of fun on the way out.’ ‘A bit of fun.’ ‘A reward, then.’ They gave me the gong for Bali. ‘Don’t need a reward, Don. I’m Admin now–that’s for the next generation. If they don’t get done over by the pollies.’ Wonder why they didn’t give one to Matty. Probably because... ‘Tough titty, Commander, no-one’s available. You’re it.’ ‘Thanks for nothing, Deputy-Assistant Half-arsed-Commiss-ioner.’ ‘That’s OK, Jack. Up yours, too.’ Beaudy! His working career–his life, really–had swung from project to project, like an orang utan swinging from tree to tree (he didn’t use a hyphen, preferring the Malay pronunciation that 1 Recent Australian Prime Ministers (2007- ). 18
his grandfather would have used). Orang utan–“Man of the woods”–could have described the life of a detective! And he could have named a few colleagues who may also have borne a passing resemblance to these wonderful creatures, in appearance if not intellect. ‘If I have to do it, tell me more, tell me more!’ ‘Our techos have found something in the chatter. Or it might’ve been the Yanks. Doesn’t matter, Five Eyes and all that. Could be nothing. Might waste your last months, keeping you out of the office.’ ‘As you know, Your Almightiness, I am the best judge of what is or may or may not be nothing. I am also the best judge of what is something.’ Anything will be something if it keeps me away from the desk. ‘Phone-tapping again? They’re always at it. Think they’re smarter than smartphones!’ ‘Maybe they are–this time it’s metadata that rang the bells.’ ‘God save us! Sure it wasn’t church bells! So, is it teenage jihadists torn between martyrdom and finishing their homework or what? Sucking up ice to get off on ISIS?’ ‘Could be. Could be not.’ The Deputy Commissioner, as befits a Great One, couldn’t show any appreciation for an underling’s pun. ‘That’s why a smartarse Detective Commander has to be torn away from tidying his desk prior to what he thinks is a well-earned but dubious retirement.’ This was too much but it would have to wait. There were plenty of competent detectives all over the AFP, re-assignable at a blink. Although, come to think of it, some of them were as useless as an ashtray on a motor bike, as the saying goes. ‘What’s the chatter?’ ‘Not clear yet. The boys are still finding their way with the metadata thing.’ ‘OK. So what use is it to us?’ ‘You like to know the players, don’t you? It can tell us who someone is communicating with.’ ‘Both ends of a conversation.’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘Has the legislation been passed?’ ‘It will be, by the time you’ve finished.’ ‘Ipso facto reductio ad nauseum!’ ‘Quite. But don’t expect to get a job teaching Latin.’
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Special Operations was located in a heritage-listed brick build-ing near Williamstown. Everyone was cleared for access to sensitive material, apart from the cleaners, who were subject to a different authorisation process. From the roof, whose parapet served as an effective wind break, you could view the You Yangs one way and Port Phillip Bay the other. It was also easy to look down on the more expensive Willy houses, which appealed to Jack’s inverted but unrecognised snobbery. In such a building forests of masts and networks of wires and cables were both forbidden under the Heritage Act 1995 and distinctly inappropriate as an advertisement for what was going on inside. Nevertheless, there were masts and cables in plethoric quantities hidden behind the parapet, insulated and rat proof. As usual, the bosses, the Great Ones, owned the top floor. Like cream, though his hated desk was also there. He was quite aware that scum also rises to the top, but he actually respected his colleagues too much to allow this analogy to prevail, provid-ing they didn’t try to interfere in his work. He spent as little time as he could up there and as much as he could–when he had to come in to the office–in Ferguson Street, having a coffee or otherwise topping up the engine room with proteins and carbohydrates. ‘Good afternoon, boys and girls of the Hallowed Basement.’ In spite of his firm–indeed, entrenched–belief that shoe leather was the only way, for a fair dinkum detective, he still felt a grudging thrill when he looked at the banks of computer screens and their kindergarten operatives. ‘I understand that you have, with great inconsiderateness for an old man’s aching back and pathetic pension plan, got some-thing for me.’ No-one looked at him, but he was sure that the intelligence level of the room had risen by several percentage points. ‘I see. You will note, if you care to pay attention, that I have hanging from my too-oftenexposed and welt-strewn neck, a necklace suspending a criminal photographer’s version of yours truly, which authorises me to speak to you and at least one of you to reciprocate in such a way that I can then happily wend my way back upstairs and repair to the real world, where I shall use whatever irritatingly-small piece of information you may choose to give me to its best effect.’ Having thus provided the key which they were all waiting for, the briefing could proceed. He liked the term “Special Operations” as it sounded some-what medical and forensic, and different. ‘Sometimes little pictures are better than big ones. And, as we all know, if we’ve ever done a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, a lot of little bits can make a big bit. If you take the time.’ 20
Experience and age allowed a person to be a philosopher sometimes. ‘Metadata. You meeta my mumma, I meeta your data.’ The groans were sufficiently gratifying to allow himself to proceed. ‘Thank you.’ But now to assert the difference between upstairs and downstairs. ‘First, tell me about metadata. Treat it as though I know nothing.’ His threatening look confirmed that he did, in fact, know nothing. ‘Jim, you’re OiC–you can kick off.’ He knew that Jim Amos would have kicked off, anyway, but it wasn’t often that he had the opportunity to tell an OiC to kick off. ‘Metadata simply means big data. Big in importance, small in nature. Very small. Often just bits. Located in billions of other little bits. It would be easier and quicker and cheaper to find the needle in the haystack, if we didn’t have all these.’ Macneill acknowledged the rows of computers with his eyes, which understood what they were seeing about as much as his brain did. ‘There are more down below.’ ‘There’s another basement?!’ ‘You didn’t know that? You don’t know that. Then there are the Yanks and the Brits and the Canucks and the Kiwis.’ ‘The Five Eyes. All English speaking, except perhips the Kiwis!’ ‘My mother was a Kiwi.’ ‘Ah, well, that’s settled something I was wondering about!’ Fortunately, Agent Amos was already formulating his next sentence and thus too distracted to question this, translating with some trouble from his more comfortable bits and bytes. ‘The key, as far as we’re concerned, is that we can identify who texts who. We can do much else, but that’s the nub.’ ‘The author and the reader?’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘For mobiles?’ ‘Mobile phones. Computers. iPads. Ordinary telephones. Anything you use to communicate with others.’ ‘You left out pigeons and semaphore. And Morse Code. And hand signals. And body language. And eruptions from other fundamental orifices. And letters!’ He saw that none of this was causing much good will. ‘So, we can tell what people are saying and who they’re saying it to.’
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‘No.’ I thought it was too good to be true. ‘If you’re on the phone, what time you make the call, the number called and when. Same for emails. ‘What they’re saying to each other?’ ‘Have you got a warrant? If you haven’t…’ ‘…then it’s back to old-fashioned detective work.’ Beaudy! Old-fashioned detective work. What they taught you in Detective School, the same as they did in the time of the pharaohs, the time of the shoguns, the time of the Incas, the time of the burghers (not the ham kind, obviously), the time of Guy Fawkes, the time of "... the biggest story since the resurrection." Of “Squizzy” Taylor and Guy Burgess and Kim Philby and Bradley Manning and Edward Snowden. He’d read the lot, even Julian Assange, although he wasn’t sure about the crime in his case. Five years inside an Embassy so you don’t run the risk of getting locked up somewhere else?! But they were only examples, in the classroom. Crimes don’t get solved in classrooms; they get solved by experience, getting out there with your brains and boots, finding the bits, the little bits, the lots of little bits. He could have added bytes, but they were actually larger than bits. Then writing the story. Detective stories and spy stories: what was the difference? Well, budgets, really, but that wasn’t usually his problem. The AFP certainly wasn’t ASIO, or the Defence Signals Directorate, but neither was it your average resource-starved State police de-partment, with the top brass milking the terrorism threat for every last extra desk and mega-quadrillion-electronic surveillance equipment that the CIA had passed on to the FBI in the noughties before they’d traded it in for other stuff the year be-fore last. ‘What have you found in your precious metadata?’ Agent Amos wasn’t good on adjectives and even less famil-iar with irony. ‘It’s a bit difficult to put a finger on it.’ Can’t say anything without a “bit” in it. Must look forward to having a byte for lunch. And how can you put a finger on electromagnetic im-pulses? These highly technical thoughts were quite gratifying, though he would have been better served if he’d left off the “im”. ‘Take your time.’ ‘Well, you remember that I said we can’t look at content? Or, at least, not legally.’ ‘Yes, I distinctly remember that gem of information, design-ed to delight any member of the non-uniformed constabulary who is a slave to the principle that it is better to solve crimes than to write detective stories.’
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‘We’ve found that a considerable number of text messages have been transmitted from a particular phone to a number of other phones.’ ‘How many other phones?’ ‘Four.’ ‘And do those four other phones send text messages back to that particular phone?’ ‘We’re not sure. Possibly not.’ ‘Possibly not. Possibly not means possibly yes.’ ‘Possibly.’ It must be something about working in a basement. From a practical person’s point of view–namely detectives’–another person can be too clever by half, in this case demon-strating a severe deficiency in the arithmetical department. ‘OK, but I sense a little–dare I say a bit–of a contradiction here. You said that you can identify a sender and a receiver. Ergo, when the receiver replies to the sender, he becomes the sender and the erstwhile sender becomes the receiver. Ergo, for the second time, you can identify both parties, or up to five parties in this case?’ ‘Yes, that is so.’ ‘But?’ It is almost impossible for a computer nerd to look em-barrassed, for so many arcane reasons that it’s a wonder that university researchers across the planet and possibly beyond are not frantically applying for grants to attempt to explain the phenomenon. ‘Your boss told us not to.’ Your boss told us not to! It was enough to make a cop turn to microhorology for a living.
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