O’Brien instantly about-turned and stepped back into the building. Bousakis, considerably bulkier, took a little longer to turn round and follow him, like an oil tanker trying to catch up with its tug. “What the bloody hell are they doing here?” O’Brien demanded. “I don’t know, Brian. I guess they know things are coming to a climax. Maybe they were expecting it today. All you have to do is shake your head and say no comment.” O’Brien looked out at the restless group being held back from charging into the building by two Commission security guards. All the channels were represented there: the four commercial channels, the ABC and even the SBS. Frustrated by the guards, the cameramen backed off and photographed each other, a regular habit, as if there were a union rule amongst cameramen that they should have as much exposure as the reporters. “Is the car out there yet?” “Not yet—yes, there it is now! You want to make a run for it?” O’Brien had a sediment of humour still left in him; he looked at Bousakis and grinned.
