That damned invisible hearing aid was on the blink again. ‘You’re quitting parliament?’ I said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Ange scoffed. ‘I just don’t want to leave anything to chance with my renomination. If you run against me, it’ll help split any potential opposition. Then you swing your support behind me in the final ballot and bump me over the line. Simple.’

Sure it was simple. It was the oldest trick in the political book.

‘Like I said, it’s a big ask. But I’m worried, Murray. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.’

I sat there, speechless, staring at him.

‘Don’t interrupt,’ he said. ‘I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that I might be worried, but that you’ll be the one at the rough end of the pineapple. End of the day, I’ll be back in parliament, you’ll be the man who knifed his boss, got the sack. After all, I can hardly keep you on my staff after you declare your intention to run against me. Stands to reason. So there’s not much incentive in it for you.’

‘Not much,’ I agreed.

‘That’s why I’m prepared to make it worth your while.’

A crack opened in the clouds and a beam of sunshine fell upon the container gantries of Appleton dock. Don’t move, I told myself. You’ll break the spell.

‘You’re shocked, I can see,’ said Angelo. ‘Please, don’t be offended. I know I can’t buy your integrity, but I’d be grateful if you give me this opportunity to express my appreciation for your years of loyal service. You know I can’t guarantee your job security beyond the election, but at least I can cushion the blow, money-wise.’

‘Money?’ I said, as though the filthy subject never crossed my mind.

‘Your current employment contract provides for, what, three months’ pay in case of dismissal?’

‘Six,’ I said, a mere point of information.

Angelo was undeterred. ‘We’ll make it nine. Nominations for preselection close in two weeks. Plenty of time for us to amend the relevant clauses. Then wham, bam, ink’s barely dry and you decide to run against me—which is your prerogative as a party member. And I give you your marching orders—which is my right as your employer. You pocket the payout and away we go.’

‘Nine months’ severance pay?’ I closed my eyes and squeezed thumb and forefinger across them. Any second I was going to wake up, find myself at home in bed, realise this was all a dream.

‘Okay then, twelve,’ said Ange quickly. ‘A year’s pay, lump sum. How’s that for a golden parachute?’

Why did I need a parachute? I’d sprouted wings. I tried to look riven.

‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Agnelli was a veritable clairvoyant this morning. ‘You’re thinking that you’ll have a job until the election anyway. But keep in mind there’s a lot of pressure on me to cut costs. Other ministers are shedding staff.’

Act now, in other words, to avoid disappointment. ‘Suppose I agree,’ I said tentatively. ‘Hypothetically speaking. For this to work we’ll have to put up a pretty good show. I’d need to have a really proper go at you.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Angelo, moving in for the kill. ‘Boots and all.’

‘In that case, I’ll have campaign expenses. Phone bills, entertainment, postage.’

‘Chicken-feed,’ said Ange. ‘I’ll pay out of my own pocket. A grand, shall we say?’

The fucking cheapskate had just donated ten times that to Donny out of government funds. ‘Two,’ I said, feeling generous, ‘and it’s a deal.’

I extended my hand and he nodded in its vicinity.

‘Amend your contract and have it on my desk for signature by the close of business,’ he said. ‘And mum’s the word, okay?’

Trish buzzed to say Angelo’s next appointment had arrived, a senior official from the Railways Union. I got out while the going was good and went into my office, a cubicle adjacent to the ministerial document-shredder.

Once I’d located my job contract, it took me all of five minutes to pencil the new details into the margins, ready for retyping. Then I pulled out the phone book, found the listing for Maitland Transport, highlighted the address, copied the details to a cheque requisition form, added the relevant budget codes and marked it for immediate payment. Not a bad day’s work, all up.

I was about to take the paperwork out to Trish when she buzzed me. ‘There’s a gentleman here to see you,’ she said. ‘A Noel Webb.’

I knew Webb. He was no gentleman.

Surf was up. The waves of shit were about to start breaking.