Fool's Gold

by PJ Skinner

  Sam walked to the restaurant at half past seven judging that she would be the first to arrive and sit with her back to the wall at the big round table. The streets shimmered with heat, full of people sitting outside their shops and chatting on stone benches built into the walls of the street. A cat followed her up the street carrying its tail in the air and brushing against her bare legs. When she reached the door, the cat sat down on the step as if to wait for her and washed itself with meticulous tongue strokes. Sam climbed the stairs to the roof garden, patting her bun to check for stray hairs. Heading for the table, she was surprised to see Mike Morton already there in the shadow of the oak tree that grew up from the courtyard, expecting her.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘we should do introductions. I’m Mike Morton.’

  Sam smiled and held out her hand.

  ‘Sam Harris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘I’m glad you came early. I hoped I’d have time to talk to you before the others arrived.’

  ‘Um, what about?’

  ‘Well, now I know you’re a geologist. I’d like to tell you about a project I’m doing which might interest you. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Yes please, a gin, lime and soda.’

  Mike ordered their drinks as Sam wondered why he thought she would be interested in one of his projects. She wore a cheap dress and old sandals. It didn't seem likely that he was after her money.

  ‘A year ago, I went to a cocktail party and someone gave me some information about Sierramar.’

  ‘That’s in South America, isn’t it?’ said Sam.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. One guest told me he used to work for a large petroleum company there during the sixties. Men from local tribes used to wander into their exploration camp in the jungle and offer large gold nuggets for sale. That got my attention, and I researched the country in the British library. It turned out that there were several productive gold-mining districts there during the 1950s.’

  ‘I thought they’d all closed down because of a lack of investment?’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. There are no working mines left, but that’s because of the crap mining law. The mines are still viable. I contacted the Sierramar embassy and discovered that the government was on the brink of bringing a new law to liberalise mining and encourage foreign investment in the country.’

  Mike paused and took a deep slug of his whisky, the ice clinking in his glass. Beads of moisture dripped onto the tablecloth leaving deep coloured stains. Sam sipped her drink too and tried to look relaxed. Mike Morton, the famous entrepreneur, talking to her about mining. She tried not to get excited. Why tell her this story? He knew she had studied geology. Maybe he wanted her opinion on something?

  ‘That’s great detective work,’ said Sam, as he waited for some encouragement to continue. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I visited my mate, Edward Beckett; he’s the man you’ll meet this evening, along with his wife and daughter. He’s my wingman in these ventures. I met him at the Monaco Grand Prix about twenty years ago and he’s been the source of finance for them ever since.’

  ‘And he agreed to fund your search?’

  ‘Exactly. So, at the end of last year, I packed my bag and set off for Calderon, the capital city of Sierramar. The aftermath of the national holiday week Las Fiestas de Calderon greeted me on arrival. They celebrate the liberation of the city from the Spanish by General Vasquez. There are bullfights every day for a week, and the entire population indulges in a seven-day orgy of drunkenness. The streets were littered with cans and bottles and sleeping revellers. I’m no slouch myself when it comes to parties, you know.’

  ‘I’ve read about you in the past,’ she said, unable to prevent herself from smiling.

  ‘Have you now?’ he said.

  He looked at her from under his short eyelashes and winked, making her blush. A man who liked to be noticed. It was obvious why women liked him. His strong animal magnetism made her sweat, but he had ‘trouble’ tattooed across his forehead. Sam did not need another Simon in her life, especially not one as notorious as Mike Morton. She determined to steer well clear.

  ‘Undaunted that I had missed the biggest partying week of the year, I got established in Sierramar with the help of contacts at the British embassy and set about trying to acquire mining properties. I resembled a lamb to the slaughter in the beginning. My first venture did not go well. They conned me out of a large sum of money and wasted a lot of time digging large holes in a barren riverbank on the fringes of the Amazon Basin.’

  ‘But that didn’t put you off?’

  ‘It was my fault. I stayed in the most expensive hotel in town to impress people. People noticed all right. They assumed that I had lots of money and fell over themselves trying to be the first to swindle me. Gringos are prime targets in Sierramar. The national hobby is relieving dumb foreigners of their cash.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I consider myself to be sharp and I’m not averse to double dealing from time to time, but I never imagined the locals would swindle me. I need a geologist to sort the wheat from the chaff before I spend any more of my investor’s cash.’

  ‘Oh, I see, and here I am.’

  ‘And there you were. This is weird karma us meeting like this. I need a geologist and you appear just like that. It’s kismet.’

  ‘I don’t believe in fate,’ said Sam regretting it. Get a grip. The hairs on her arms stood up in anticipation of what he would say next.

  ‘Would you work abroad if you got the opportunity?’

  ‘Yes. I’d jump at the chance.’

  ‘I think we might arrange that. Do you speak Spanish?’

  ‘I did O-level Spanish so I’m not fluent, but I should be able to get by.’

  ‘Good. I’m sure you’ll pick it up.’

  Sam wanted to ask more questions but before they could continue, the rest of the party arrived and there was a tacit agreement not to talk any more business. Mike did the introductions.

  ‘This is Edward Beckett, and his wife Ophelia, her brother Toby and his daughter Jocasta.’

  ‘Hallo, I’m Sam.’

  ‘Edward’s been a client of mine for many years and he invited me to stay on his yacht. Sam’s a geologist folks, isn’t that great?’

  Sam blushed and mumbled something self-deprecating, pleased that someone had taken her seriously for once. After introductions, they got down to eating and drinking and having a good time. It was a very relaxed evening. Even better, Ophelia and Jocasta wore dresses from a similar factory in India to the one she bought.

  'Can I have your number? I'll give you a call when I get back,' said Mike.

  ‘I’ll be staying with my aunt in London when I get back in two weeks’ time. I’ll give you her number.’

  ‘Okay, that’s perfect. Good luck with your dissertation and I’ll see you there.’

  The yacht weighed anchor the next day, and the party set off for their next port of call. Sam watched from the ramparts of the Crusader castle until it disappeared over the horizon. She tried to be realistic about her job prospects with Mike Morton. Not a man on whom to rely, being more infamous than famous. There should be no counting of chickens, especially those from Sierramar, before they hatched. And yet, she hoped that he would get in touch with her. The things he’d told her, had intrigued her. How often would she get a similar opportunity? Everything about the man shouted cliché. Gift horses and all that. There was nothing to be done about it until she had finished her dissertation, which now superfluous and boring. It was a real grind to get on, with the bay sparkling below her studio, beckoning her into its warm crystal waters.

  Chapter II

  On her return to London, Sam went to stay at her Aunt Charlotte’s home in Chelsea, a cosy two-up, two-down, Victorian terrace house, lined in books and paintings, on a side street behind the King’s road. With the encouragement of an infinite supply of coffee and cake, it didn’t take her long to finish her dissertation, and she went
to hand it in at the university. On her return, her aunt told her that a man had telephoned looking for Sam, asking her to lunch.

  ‘I think he said his name was Morton. Is he a new boyfriend, dear?’

  ‘Not really, Lottie. I’m hoping he might offer me a job.’

  ‘A job? How splendid! Do I know him?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I met him in Greece. He was on a yacht.’

  ‘Sounds like a good boyfriend to me.’

  ‘Too old, I’m afraid, and too married.’

  ‘Ah, that is a bit of a problem. The job will have to do instead.’

  ‘When did he want to meet me?’

  ‘Tomorrow at one o’clock in that little bistro on the King’s road.’

  ‘I know the one you mean, Auntie. Thank you.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll get divorced,’ said her aunt, an eternal optimist where Sam was concerned. She had not been told about the reasons for her breakup with Simon and was unaware of her niece’s determination to avoid boyfriends for the foreseeable future.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Sam, who had no intention of ever getting married but had given up telling people this, as they thought it was compulsory, like being born and dying.

  Sam flushed with excitement. Mike Morton was serious after all. She had already decided that if he didn’t ring her, she would have to take temporary secretarial work until something better came along. Temp work paid relatively well and she had a good typing speed after doing her dissertation. At least she would be earning some money instead of sitting at home moping. She also knew that, given the option of a job in Sierramar, however badly paid, there was no chance of her turning down an offer from Mike.

  The next day, Sam arrived at the bistro ten minutes early. The waiter showed her to a table with a red-checked tablecloth and a candle holder made from an empty bottle of Mateus Rose. The minutes went by with no sign of Mike. She tried not to get concerned when he was late, or to consider that possibility that he might not turn up at all. She picked at the wax running down the neck of the bottle, flicking the pieces across her plate. The waiter glared at her, so she transferred her attention to the breadsticks instead. Mike strolled in as she finished the last one. He was twenty minutes late but he did not apologise. Sam doubted if he even cared that she had been waiting.

  ‘Ah, Sam, you’re here. Good. How are you? Did you have a good trip home?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. And you?’

  ‘All good, thanks. Masters finished?’

  ‘Yes, I handed in my dissertation yesterday. Well, they still have to tell me if I’ve passed or failed but I don’t have any worries on that front.’

  ‘Excellent. Shall we order?’ He signalled to the waiter who appeared and, to Mike’s obvious exasperation, started to explain the menu in great detail.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Don’t bother with that. I’ll have the rack of lamb, please,’ he said.

  ‘Me, too,’ said Sam, thrilled to be able to order her favourite, which was normally way beyond her budget. Mike got down to business.

  ‘I’ve decided that you should come and work with me in Sierramar,’ he said.

  Well, that was cutting to the chase. Sam noticed that he did not ask her if she wanted to work for him. She wasn’t sure she liked his assumption but playing it cool was not the right tactic. She was also a little disappointed that he had made no attempt to flirt, having taken more than usual care over her appearance. It wasn’t that she fancied him but it hurt her ego that he didn’t even notice.

  ‘That’d be fantastic,’ she answered. ‘What would I do there?’

  ‘I’d like you to work as my project manager, reviewing the exploration projects I get offered in Sierramar and ruling out the scams and worthless properties.’

  ‘When would I go?’

  ‘Straight away. As soon as I can organise you a ticket. You can go on a tourist visa for the time being. We’ll see about getting you a work visa once you have settled in.’

  ‘How much will I earn?’ She would have worked for free but she wasn’t going to tell Mike that. He looked nonplussed for a second as if it had never occurred to him that she would expect to be paid. He fiddled with his napkin.

  ‘Um, I know that it’s a bit unusual but I can’t afford to pay you a salary in cash.’ He raised his head and looked her straight in the eye his voice more confident. ‘I’ll give you shares in the venture, which will be worth a fortune when the company floats on the stock exchange.’

  Sam had no experience of owning shares in a start-up company but she knew what it meant money wise. She didn’t want to risk annoying him and changing his mind, but she didn’t have any money left after funding her Master’s degree. ‘So how will I pay for my expenses in Sierramar?’

  ‘I’ll pay your round-trip ticket to Calderon and put you up in the company apartment while you’re there. I’ll cover your board and lodgings and give you petty cash for the occasional trip to the disco. You won’t need much money if you’re working in the jungle most of the time.’

  ‘And when are you planning on floating the company?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. Probably in a year or so. That depends on you too. If we get a good portfolio of properties together quickly, it might be sooner.’

  ‘That’s quite a long time to work with no salary.’

  Mike looked cross as if he hadn’t expected any pushback and had been banking on Sam being desperate. Sam noticed the look on his face. From their chat in Lindos, he must know that she was honest to a fault, a character trait not common in Sierramar according to him, and not one that Mike himself was overly familiar with. He would need to work with someone he could trust, someone cheap. And she needed this job. There was no likelihood of being offered anything else in this job market. The recruitment guy at university had made that crystal clear. This was a unique opportunity and she wanted it. She soldiered on.

  ‘The thing is,’ she said, ‘I took out a loan to pay for my Master’s degree. I’ll need to cover the monthly repayments if I’m to accept the position.’

  ‘How much are you paying the bank a month?’

  ‘One hundred pounds.’

  ‘I think we can manage that.’ He looked relieved. Obviously, he had imagined a much bigger payment. ‘Give me your bank details, and I’ll organise a monthly transfer. Does that suit you?’

  Sam didn’t know Mike well enough to question the likelihood of him actually setting up a monthly payment into her bank account. From what she had read in the newspapers, she doubted the chances of a rich haul from one of his schemes but having a geology job on her CV was priceless. She had also told a white lie as she only had to pay the bank fifty pounds a month but she wanted to have some pocket money and she was not going to beg.

  ‘I’d love to go to Sierramar and help you out. You won’t be sorry. I’m a quick learner, and I love working in the field.’

  This was not strictly true as the only time she had been in the field was on trips at university when she had slept in a hotel or hostel. She had no idea what it would be like in a jungle or if she could cope with the limited facilities. There was only one way to find out. Besides, it was exciting to be offered a job. Getting work as a junior geologist was difficult at the best of times. This was a genuine launching pad for her career, and she could learn to speak better Spanish, too.

  ‘Okay then,’ he said, ‘sort yourself out and I’ll phone you when I have your ticket.’

  ***

  Sam went home to her parents’ house to get her field gear from the loft. She crawled up the rickety ladder, which wobbled and almost fell as she reached into the cobweb-filled darkness and pulled her gear toward her. She had stuffed it up into the rafters after her last field trip and some of it smelled like it hadn’t been washed. She dropped it onto the floor of the landing from where her mother surveyed her antics with concern.

  ‘Do be careful, darling. Those steps are lethal,’ she shouted up at Sam.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve finished. I’ll be down in a
minute. Just shutting the hatch.’

  ‘We’re so excited that you’ve been offered a job. Where will you be working?’

  ‘Sierramar.’

  ‘That sounds rather exotic. South America, isn’t it? Which company?’

  ‘None of the companies are hiring right now because of the recession. Do you remember Mike Morton?’

  ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘I met him while I was in Lindos and he has offered me a job.’

  ‘Mike Morton offered you a job?’

  Sam heard the disapproval in her mother’s voice. Hardly surprising under the circumstances but she pretended not to notice.

  ‘I can’t believe it. I’m so excited.’

  ‘That’s nice, dear,’ said her mother. She picked Sam’s field gear off the floor and sniffed it cautiously, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  ‘Ugh. These clothes smell terrible. Do you want me to wash them? I can put them in the dryer and if you stay the night, they’ll be ready before you leave. I’ve put clean sheets on your bed and we’re having lamb chops for supper.’

  Sam was about to refuse, but she wasn’t sure how easy it would be to get anything washed in Sierramar and she needed babying before her first big trip. Also, she noticed the strategically placed bribe of lamb chops that her mother considered a deal maker. She didn’t know that Sam had eaten the same with Mike days earlier.

  ‘Yes please, Mummy. You’re an angel.’

  It was no wonder that her mother was not keen on the idea of her going to Sierramar. The fact he had swindled her father was not something that Sam found comforting with respect to her new employer, but she had to focus on her budding career and getting some experience on her resume, whatever it took. She needed some moral support. Her sister Hannah would understand.

  Hannah was the antithesis of Sam, physically similar in height and build, but poles apart in character. Older by a year and bossy with it, she had a confidence that eluded Sam and a conservative outlook on life. She was also very girly and couldn’t understand why her sister was more like a brother and couldn’t be persuaded to play with dolls or steal their mother’s lipstick. She could be economical with the truth and was happy to let Sam take the blame for misdemeanours when they were younger. Luckily this had not affected their deep bond and they always saw eye to eye when it was important.