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Lego blocks dumped on the hillside by virtue of its menacing hi-tech perimeter fence. Inside, it is Australia’s listening post. The nation’s electronic eavesdropping is deposited there. And it is where senior bureaucrats and Ministers go when they want to have secure video-link conversations with their counterparts in the US and UK.
    Gordon was the best analyst in the DSD. He made sense of raw data and had specialised first in Indonesia and later engaged with the emerging giant of China. He was fascinated by the mega-nation of 1.3 billion people, millions of them in rural ghettos, thousands in prisons for not much more than the crime of questioning Beijing’s iron-fisted rule. He was particularly interested in China’s push into the Asia–Pacific neighbourhood, where it was buying favour with nations small and large.
    Outsiders might wonder how Ben managed to hold one of the highest level security clearances – AUSTEO: Australian Eyes Only – given his unusual lifestyle choices.
    For Ben the answer was easy.
    â€˜The security clearance tries to uncover areas where you might be compromised, some weakness that might leave you exposed to being blackmailed,’ he said. ‘How can someone blackmail me for being a trannie if I dress like this in the cafeteria every day?’ It was a compelling argument.
    â€˜So, what do you really want?’ The change of tone shook Dunkley out of his mental meandering.
    â€˜I’ve got a photo we need to talk about. I don’t know what it means.’
    Gordon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, we’re not discussing it here. You have a look that tells me this is serious. I do my best serious business at Caph’s in Manuka. Table at the back facing the entrance. Meet me in twenty minutes … I’ll leave first.’
    And with that, Gordon finished his cocktail and strode out, all purpose and intent, albeit in a pair of killer high heels.
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    Caph’s, a downbeat joint in the cafe district of nearby Manuka, was unusually empty for this time of night, with just a few lonely souls scattered among its numerous tables. Ben Gordon, though, was taking no chances.
    â€˜Take the battery out of your BlackBerry.’
    Dunkley followed the command, knowing that Gordon’s knowledge of electronics and espionage left little room for argument. Ben had told him that an everyday mobile phone could be turned into a listening and tracking device, without much effort. And in Canberra, with its endless conspiracies and political intrigues, it paid to be ultra-cautious. Besides, Dunkley needed the advice of his long-time friend. The black-and-whitephoto was starting to trouble him. Bruce Paxton was easy, but who were the two Asian men?
    Dunkley carefully eased the photo out of its envelope, discreetly placing it in front of Gordon as the two contemplated a menu they had little interest in ordering from.
    Gordon studied the photo for a moment or two then carefully lifted his gaze to that of his friend.
    â€˜Jesus, Harry, where did you get this?’
    Before Dunkley had a chance to answer, Gordon started again. ‘Acacia … you have no idea, do you?’
    Dunkley stared at him blankly.
    â€˜It’s the top-secret marking for ASIS, our international spooks. Jesus … You are sitting on something potentially dynamite. Oh, and you are also in serious breach of the “Official Secrets” component of the Crimes Act – a crime, my friend, that could land you in jail.’
    Gordon looked down at the photo again. He seemed slightly shocked, Dunkley thought. And worried. The reaction heightened Dunkley’s excitement. Somewhere in this photo was a cracker of a yarn.
    â€˜Zhou Dejiang! My, you have snared a big one.’
    â€˜Zhou who?’
    â€˜Zhou Dejiang … yes, I’m sure it’s Mr Zhou. He doesn’t look all that different today, either.’
    â€˜And just who is Zhou Dejiang?’
    â€˜Harry, I