together with the vast numbers of buildings of great antiquity in which the history of the nation was enshrined.
This atmosphere was engendered in both London and Paris and visitors could never fail to be affected by it. With the monarch still living in Buckingham Palace, in London there was yet another link to the country’s past of well over 1,000 years.
Sydney, it was true, has much of the same atmosphere about it, but of history there is far less, the furthest one could go back in the history of the Australian nation was 1788. In London there were buildings still in use that pre-dated Sydney, in fact some went back to the 1100’s, with excavations revealing foundations of others that went back to Roman times.
Wallace was not pleased that he had committed to meeting the ASIO or ASIS man in London, it still seemed astonishing to Wallace that Australia should have somebody undercover in London who was officially attached to the High Commission. Apparently his name was David McKay and Wallace gathered he had been in the field for some years.
He could not recall the name from his clerical sojourn at ASIO but then he was hardly in the area of the James Bond men and would have had little contact with any field staff. Wallace’s expertise had been in counting paper clips and checking that the tea trolley arrived on time.
The first step would be the hotel, maybe a quick shower and then a quick tour around the city to see some of the sights before turning in. The first priority was to be rid of jet lag; he had no wish to be falling asleep all over the place and at all sorts of odd times during the day, particularly when crossing streets.
Saul Prosser greeted Wallace enthusiastically as he entered his office, shook him warmly by the hand and escorted him to a chair. It was very late in the afternoon; Wallace had had to thread his way through office workers who were on their way home. Saul’s secretary was also clearing her desk preparatory to departure. She was a middle aged lady of severe appearance, yet Wallace knew from past experience that she had a sweet nature that belied her grim exterior.
‘With you in a moment, old son,’ Saul said and busied himself with some papers before dialling on his telephone. ‘Do you like women wrestling in mud?’
‘What…Yes…I beg your pardon?’ Wallace stumbled, not sure whether he was speaking to him or not.
‘Do you like…hallo James…!’ Saul launched off into a conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line.
Mud wrestling, Wallace pondered. Well, why not. It would be no worse than some of the other dens of iniquity Saul had dragged him into in past years.
Saul was about 5’9” in height, fairly broad and with a bald head, with a pair of twinkling eyes that were guaranteed to captivate any lady between the ages of 20 and 60. He had a trace of a northern accent, supplanted by some Cockney as he had been living and working in London for about 30 years.
He was said to have been more than a useful hooker in his younger days when he played for Harlequins, and had once been considered for England selection. He had married fairly late in life at the age of 35, and had decided to give the game up after breaking his collar bone, three ribs and his left arm during a fracas with London Welsh. He had finished up at the bottom of a scrum that had collapsed after which the game had then degenerated into a brawl. He had been aware of pains in his chest but had played on and then tackled a London Welsh forward as he flung himself over the line for a try. He believed he had broken his collarbone on the forward’s hip, his left arm against the post, while his ribs were maybe fractured during the previous fight. His wife then asserted herself and said ‘No more!’, but after a week or so in hospital and his arm in a sling for weeks Saul’s fervour for further punishment had abated.
Aside from the noble art of Rugby, his business had suffered badly while he had been languishing in his hospital bed and he had to concede that business took priority, especially as it put bread on the table.
He had decided to retire, but had then attended the Wales versus England game at Twickenham a few months later and broken his thumb in an argument with a partisan Welshman who had broken his left knuckle on Saul’s head. They had finished up in the same out-patients ward – and the same Magistrate’s court! Apparently they were still communicating with each other via Christmas cards and telephone whenever there was a game on. To Wallace it seemed to be an odd way of making friends.
‘I’ve booked you in at the Bonnington…is that OK?’
‘Er…yes…OK!’ Wallace replied, hoping that there would be nobody there who may be in one of his audiences over the next few days.
They had dinner first at an establishment that was very respectable. They went over the arrangements for Wallace’s London engagements and everything seemed satisfactory.
‘Did you find out anything about the Society of Asian Commerce?’
‘Not a fat lot, except that they pay their bills,’ said Saul. ‘So do the Renown Insurance Company, the Pyramid Metal Group and Woodersons Bank. I’m also having discussions with Barclays Bank who want an entertaining speaker for a dinner they are holding to celebrate the opening of a new branch somewhere in the City.’
‘How do I fit into that?’
‘Australian, old son,’ Saul raised his glass while his eyes followed a tight skirt as it circumnavigated their table. ‘Barclays are interested in Australia.’
‘They were interested in Australia some years ago and opened a few branches, then they pulled out. Are they interested again? They must be mad.’
‘Well, that’s for them to work out,’ Saul commented. ‘But as you know many foreign banks…not that we are foreign of course…’ he added hastily ‘…are now trying to gain licences overseas, not only in Australia, and Barclays are one of them.’
‘So you want an address about Australia?’
‘Yes, the Australian banking scene, you can throw in something about mining, the flora and fauna, and a few cricket or Rugby jokes will always go down well.’
‘Christ! What the hell do I know about banks?’
‘History is all that is needed, old son. Call into the ANZ or the National Bank in London, they’ll fill you in.’
Wallace wasn’t entirely satisfied and muttered into his soup. But he had to agree Saul had worked hard on his behalf, and though these were relatively minor assignments, they paid some of the travelling expenses for a trip that was mainly social. From then on they chatted about other things and examined other tight skirts as they meandered around the restaurant. Wallace idly wondered whether the management employed these girls just to walk around in the vicinity of Saul’s chair to retain his custom.
The mud wrestling was better than expected, one of the girls was stripped naked by her assailant during the one tussle which brought about cheers from the audience, but it didn’t really do much for Wallace as the mud acted as a skin tight garment. He had expected to see a wholly male audience but was surprised to see a high proportion of the fairer sex present; they seemed to do more shouting at the combatants than the men.
As a spectacle he had to concede it was exhilarating or maybe it was the Scotch that Saul persisted in pushing in his direction. It was late when he returned to the hotel with the promise of an early morning call from Saul. Saul departed whistling after appropriating two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, his piercing whistle went right through Wallace’s eardrums.
The
