The Shadow Game by Steve Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

Organisation, using its sweeping counter-terrorism powers, and held without access to a lawyer.
    On his release, Dunkley was hit with a defamation suit by Jack Webster. It broke him, financially and emotionally. Dunkley’s illusion that the truth mattered evaporated, leaving him bereft, rudderless.
    The last time the two had spoken was on the steps of the ACT Supreme Court on the day Dunkley had lost his legal case. The journalist had been inconsolable and Paxton winced when he remembered the look of anguish on his face.
    Paxton turned to the brilliant night sky and breathed in the sweet, clean Canberra air. He tried in vain to think of anything he hadn’t done in his quest to find Weng.
    He rose from the bench and crunched along a red-gravel path that curved towards the carpark. A small Toyota waited for him.
    The ignition responded after a few false starts and he trundled onto one of the city’s quiet streets.
    It was fifteen, perhaps twenty, minutes to his makeshift home, but he was going nowhere in a hurry. Not tonight, not tomorrow.

CHAPTER TEN
Beijing
    Meng Tao placed his morning’s copy of the People’s Daily on his teak desk, smoothing his hands over a front page that captured his nation’s inexorable rise.
    China’s insatiable appetite for oil to turbo-charge its economy featured prominently alongside an article reporting on the record numbers of Chinese travelling overseas, each an ambassador for the Middle Kingdom.
    Trumping them, though, was a picture story headlined ‘A Night at the Opera’.
    A prominent photo caught China’s propaganda minister, Jiang Xiu, arriving at the National Centre for the Performing Arts with his glamorous wife. They were both perfectly groomed and stylishly dressed and the crowd seemed to part before them as they walked into the performance.
    â€˜She is so beautiful, so elegant. He is as handsome as the president,’ gushed one smitten theatre-goer.
    He’d read the article twice. It breathlessly described Jiang’s growing authority within the politburo, declaring he was ‘Meng Dada’s strong and loyal right hand’.
    That much was true. Jiang was his confidant, the indispensable ally who had helped wrest control of the Standing Committee from the fossils of the past as they forged the new China.
    The president stared at the photograph once more before taking a sip of rich black tea. There was a gentle knock at the door.
    â€˜Come.’ Meng’s assistant opened the door wide enough to poke her head in.
    â€˜Sir, Jiang Xiu is waiting for you.’
    â€˜Yes, see him in.’
    The head of China’s propaganda agency strode into the room, his face beaming.
    â€˜Mr President.’
    â€˜Xiu, how good to see you. Are you well?’
    â€˜Very.’
    The two men embraced warmly, Meng squeezing the shoulders of his loyal colleague perhaps a tad too hard. He stood well above Jiang and never missed an opportunity to demonstrate his physical superiority.
    He motioned to a seat and offered tea to his friend who seemed eager to share an update on a crucial project.
    â€˜Good news. Australia’s Cabinet has agreed to join the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank.’
    Meng clapped his hands. China had been expecting this decision, but it still sent a thrill through him. Another piece of the geo-strategic puzzle was falling into place. He had been planning this strategy for years, recalibrating the global financial order. The new China Bank would suck power from the American-controlled World Bank and International Monetary Fund.
    Truly, Meng and his underlings were creating the financial, trade and military architecture to reshape the world. The shift of power from West to East had leaped a generation. With the humiliation of the imperial superpower in the Taiwan Strait, China had roared an unmistakeable message: it was again at the centre of all things. Meng and Jiang had capitalised on the moment, rapidly