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late - the Minister was sprinting to meet me.   Landa was short and wiry.   He was in a dark blue suit which accentuated his jewish features and curly black hair, to give a slightly sinister appearance, like a mafia chief in a movie.

        He grabbed my outstretched hand and glanced at the people in the shelter shed.   

        "Who are they?" He demanded.

        "The Council and some scientists," I replied as he moved past me.

        "And you're the candidate?"

        "Yes I am."

        Landa headed straight for the Mayor, who gushed "Welcome to Manly Mr Minister!"--before I had a chance to introduce them.   Landa shook hands with her and then his brow furrowed.

        "What do you want to show me here?" he said, walking towards the beach.   I suggested that we could inspect the nearby surf pavilion, which was threatened with collapse because of the inroads of the sea.   We would be out of the rain there.

         The Manly Surf Lifesaving President was waiting to let us in. We filed into a damp, musty room, the only useable space left in the crumbling building, which had once won the Sulman Prize for Architecture.   Built in 1938, it was an example of the le Corbusier style, with flowing lines in a poured concrete shell.   The curves concealed two segregated sunbathing decks,  

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