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Once Peters had made himself scarce, I opened the bulky envelope the receptionist had handed me. It contained the summit’s calendar, security measures and a list of invitees. I reckoned the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge at the opening of the G20’s only social event was an unwarranted complication. Why had they been invited? Wasn’t the UK monarchy meant to keep their blueblood noses out of politics?
Several pages in, I found the answer. The young couple’s visit to Western Australia was to support a business venture of a friend of William’s from Eton. The opening of his pal’s hotel at Margaret River, in the state’s South West and the refugee trauma facility were only a day apart. Like his, mother, Princess Diana, William used his celebrity to raise awareness of humanitarian causes. He’d jumped at the chance to attend the official opening. From a security perspective, we could have done without the headache.
Nevertheless, His Royal Highness was the only guy on the invitation list with whom I’d like to share a beer.
I’m not the world’s fastest reader, and so it was close to lunch-time when I asked the operator to put me through to Chief Superintendent Leeke.
“Whom shall I say is calling?”
“Flight Lieutenant Jones.”
The next voice that came on the line said, “Good afternoon. If you’ve settled in, I’d like to drop by and meet you ... if that would not be inconvenient?”
The slight emphasis was justifiable as he was doubtless aware I’d arrived well over an hour ago
“Come on over now, Chief Superintendent. I’m just about up to speed on security for the summit.”
“Happy to answer any question,” he said and the line went dead.
A few minutes later there was a sharp rap on the door. I opened it immediately. The public face of counter-terrorism wore a black suit, white shirt and red tie. His choice of dress was tactically smart because he could pass as a middle-management businessman.
His jaw dropped when he got a gander at me decked out formally in dress uniform with gold braid on the lower sleeves to indicate my rank. I remained impassive under his scrutiny, but I felt like a douche bag. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said after we had shaken hands. He paused before adding, “SOCOMD hasn’t briefed me about the particulars of your role. But it’s my understanding that security for the summit remains my responsibility.”
I repeated the general’s reply when I’d asked him about my duties. “As SOCOMD’s representative, I decide if a situation is beyond the capability of the State and Federal police tactical groups. In that event Special Forces will render support.”
The expression on the Chief’s face left me in no doubt what he thought. But as counter-terrorism was the joint responsibility of the police and defence forces he was in a difficult position. He was still attempting to formulate a politically correct reply when in the best traditions of military leadership I struck first. “If it isn’t inconvenient, I’d like to inspect the security measures you’ve put in place ... both here and at the hospital.”
“No worries.” His knitted brow belied his answer.
* * *
The tour of the hotel commenced in a private section of the underground car park. Hidden from public view behind a false wall, it was accessed via a swipe-card operated door at the rear of the building. The Summit had taken over the hotel’s upper three floors.
We took the elevator to the top floor. From the conference room on the twenty-third floor, I gazed through bombproof windows at workmen installing netting to shield delegates from the paparazzi. Overkill in my book, but as my guide kept repeating you couldn’t be too careful.
“Well you hit the jackpot with the Galaxy,” I said. “You couldn’t have found a better hotel if it had been designed for the job.”
“Actually, it was purposely built to government requirements.”
“Really! It must have cost a bomb.”
“It sure did.” He lowered his voice. “The investors agreed to install anti-terrorism security measures on the understanding that the summit would be held here.”
“But the delegates are only here for two days. After that the G20 moves to Sydney.”
“The hotel board is well aware of that ... but the chairman told me that as far as he and his fellow directors are concerned you can’t put a price on publicity.”
“Sounds like they’ve got more money than sense.”
“I thought the same as you at first ... but their plan is to market the Galaxy as a bombproof hotel. And with terror attacks on tourists on the rise, I think they could be onto a winner. Besides, the State Government sees the G20 as an opportunity to promote Perth as a world class destination.” He dropped his voice. “Word is they chipped in a million dollars.”
“You’re well informed.”
“I was on the committee that developed the security measures. In fact, it was my idea to install a security door between the lobby outside the bank of elevators and the rooms on the secure floors.” He smiled smugly, before going on to explain that a skilled hacker could bypass the elevator access control system by setting it to fire-service mode.”
“You can’t beat experience,” he said as he led me up to the security door on the twenty-third floor and swiped his card.
Hasn’t he heard about tailgating, I thought as I followed him through the door? Buttoning my lip wasn’t an option even though I was about to damage a relationship that had already got off to a shaky start. “Sorry to rain on your parade, Chief Superintendent ... but haven’t you ever followed an authorised user through a security door?”
From his slumped shoulders it was clear this common practice hadn’t occurred to him. “Holy Fuck,” he said with the dazed expression of a boxer who’d taken a hit below the belt.
“It’ll be all right...”
He groaned. “Jesus, how can it be? The first of the delegates arrive this evening. I’ll have to let the Commissioner know.”
“But not before you inform him you’ve come up with a solution.”
“Such as?”
“Well, we could deploy some of the existing air force personnel staffing the security floors as elevator operators on the secure floors. All servicemen are trained to perform gate-duty.”
His brow furrowed. “To man three elevators twenty-four seven we’ll have to deploy nine at the very least.”
“No way. In the air force the rule is that you work as long as is needed to accomplish the mission.”
“But even if we cut back to six, that’s still going to leave us short-staffed, and the guests and more importantly, the hotel directors, expect us to provide five-star services.”
“And the RAAF will ... everyone will have to work double shifts. I’ll get whoever’s in charge of job allocation and scheduling to come up with a new roster.”
The dazed look faded from the chief superintendent’s face. “I owe you,” he said
“No probs. I’ll brief Peters.”
