by Nora James
Martin appeared in a navy suit that clung to his thin legs and failed to hide his bulging stomach. He, on the other hand, could do with some grooming lessons. Mind you, they were not there for a fashion parade and she didn’t really care about his personal presentation. If only he were a little more pleasant, more approachable.
Lara noticed he was carrying his laptop. “Do I need my computer? I didn’t think I would.”
Martin shook his head. “No. One’s enough, just in case we need to type up minutes or something like that.”
“Ready?” Jack directed his question at the group.
“I was hoping to quickly call my husband, let him know I’m OK. A one minute call, I promise.” Lara looked at Martin.
He turned away. “It’ll have to wait. We need to get going.”
Lara held back a sigh. It annoyed her that this man controlled so much of her life right now, but there was nothing she could do.
The group set off through the garden and to the car that was waiting for them in front of the house. “Is Ismael coming?” asked Lara, hoping he wasn’t and she wouldn’t have to squeeze between Jack and Martin again.
Jack shook his head. “He does a lot of the ground work for us, arranges meetings, reports on rumours, that type of stuff. He comes to some things, but this is highly sensitive. It’s better if it’s just us.”
Lara quickly picked up the implications of what Jack had said. “He’s not trustworthy?”
They got into the four wheel drive, Martin making a dash for the front, probably afraid he’d otherwise have to share the back seat with Jack. Martin glanced at the driver and then turned to Lara. “No one is, around here.”
She nodded, closing her eyes for a second, to let him know she understood. She wouldn’t talk about anything significant in lifts, restaurants, shops, or other public places. She wouldn’t give anything away in front of drivers, caretakers or assistants, either.
Martin clicked his tongue. “When we’re there, Jack and I will do the talking. You only intervene if a legal issue arises out of what we’re saying. If it’s sensitive either write us a note, or ask for a short break. As I told you, we don’t know where they’re coming from. We don’t know what their gripes are. You’re a lawyer, not a decision maker.” He snorted. “Remember your place.”
She felt her blood boil. Who did he think she was? The village idiot? She bit her tongue for a split second and then thought no, why should she let him get away with that? She may have been new to this world, new to Negala, but she’d completed her legal studies with honours, thank you very much, and was an experienced lawyer who’d spent the past ten years negotiating contracts. She certainly knew what she could and couldn’t do.
Jack must have noticed the colour rising to Lara’s cheeks. “Martin, I don’t think–,” he started.
Lara raised her hand. “Jack, let me.” She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to insult Martin, to cheapen him. She was going to be strong and professional, as always. And not give that pathetic man the opportunity to cast doubts on her suitability for the position.
“Martin, I know exactly what my role is as a lawyer. I wouldn’t dream of making decisions that would commit the company. I don’t have the authority to do so. I’m well aware I’m here as an adviser, not a decision maker. Nevertheless, if discussions are proceeding in a direction that will create a legal issue for the company I will rein them in. And if the person off track happens to be you, I will rein you in. Be prepared for that. I have an ethical duty to do so and my duty isn’t to you personally, Martin. It’s to Global Oil.”
The shock on Martin’s face rivalled the amusement on Jack’s, but there was no stopping now. Lara was going to get it all off her chest. It was about time, too. “I am not going to keep my mouth shut during the meeting and I am certainly not writing you little notes. It would make us all look foolish. Chances are everyone would be able to see those notes from where they’re sitting, anyway.”
She crossed her arms, hoping her thumping heart would slow. “What we should have done, in my opinion, is prepare a strategy. If they raise issues relating to compliance with our obligations under the title, this is what we do. If they raise issues relating to the invalidity of grant of the title, or of our agreements, this is what we say.”
Jack smiled at Lara, in a way that said he was proud of what she’d done. It made her think he’d slap her on the back with camaraderie if they were on their own. She smiled back at him.
“That’s a very good idea, Lara.” Martin looked straight ahead at the road. “Shame we haven’t the time before the meeting.”
“I’m glad you agree, Martin, since I prepared a strategy note on the plane. Sorry I haven’t typed it up, though.”
“Let me see that.” Martin stretched his hand over his seat and took the paper Lara was handing him, his lips curling into a mocking half-smile. As he read through it his face changed, became serious. Without looking at Lara, he mumbled “It’s not bad.” He passed the note to Jack.
Jack seemed absorbed by it. “This is impressive. I don’t know about you, Martin, but I think we should go with it.”
Martin nodded curtly. “I suppose.” He said it as casually as he could.
“It’s a good start,” Lara said, beaming. “The team agrees.” And it was even better that she’d been able to stand up for herself, not let Martin kick her and keep her down. A good start, indeed. Jack smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with pride, and she felt warmth go right through her, something he seemed to be able to do to her at will. She looked away, a little embarrassed by her body’s response to his attention.
The car came to a sudden halt in front of a large, three-storey building and the trio stepped out. The square building was a brownish colour, its entrance flanked by two date trees, their leaves burnt by the sun.
“We’re not going to their offices?” asked Lara when she saw the sign “Malina Hotel”.
“This place is much better, believe me.” Jack opened the door for her and stood aside as she entered, followed by Martin.
The hotel was as dark as a cavern, in contrast to the glaring sun outside. Once her eyes had adjusted, Lara saw it would probably be a two or three star hotel back home, with simple brown floor tiles and dark green laminate reception counters.
The phones were not ringing, and they were the only people waiting to be served, yet somehow the receptionist seemed flustered as she shuffled pile after pile of paper. She smiled briefly and then moved some more documents around.
Every now and then she readjusted her dark green head dress, a kind of turban with intricate cross-over effects at the front, and patted the ivory necklace that shone against her brown skin. Lara wondered how old the woman was, but she couldn’t tell. It surprised her that with the Negalese she could not distinguish between twenty and thirty, or thirty and forty, and she wondered whether they, too, had the same difficulty with foreigners. “No need for us all to wait here,” mumbled Martin after a while.
At the end of the reception area, large panes of glass framed an internal courtyard and pool. Lara walked over to look. Armchairs were positioned to allow visitors to see outside and she sat, interested in the view.
She noticed not only that the area seemed bare, without pots, outdoor furniture or a bar, but the pool itself was not being used. Even the best hotel in town—she assumed they would have chosen the best—was sad and soulless. What could you do with your money here, if you had any? Not much.
“It’s not the Taj Mahal, but it’s reasonable. And guess what? They have air-conditioning in the business centre!” Jack had joined her at the window while Martin was still waiting to be served at the counter.
“Is this the best hotel in town?” Lara was puzzled. Why had they chosen this one? Sure, it was air-conditioned but she thought top government officials would go more upmarket, especially since Global Oil would probably be picking up the tab.
“It’s the only hotel in town.”
“Right.” She should
have guessed. “I suppose that’s the only swimming pool here, too. And there’s no one in it because only foreign businessmen can afford this hotel and they’re aware of poor chlorination and water-borne diseases.”
“See, you’re getting the hang of this!” Jack laughed. “They open it up to the general public once a month on a Sunday though, for less than a zenia. You should see the kids and the looks on their faces.”
He touched her forearm as he talked of the children, an innocent gesture, yet it sent a tingle right to her toes. Damn him, he was gorgeous! She wondered how many women he’d had at his feet. And damn her body too, for reacting so strongly to him and against her will.
Luckily, this time he didn’t seem to notice the effect he had on her and continued unperturbed. “For the kids, it’s like Christmas every time. Well, not Christmas. You know what I mean.”
Lara laughed. “No, I didn’t think many would celebrate Christmas here. At least the pool’s not completely wasted. Maybe they should open it to the general public every day.”
His shoes clinking on the terracotta tiles, lending him an air of authority he so obviously delighted in, Martin finally joined Jack and Lara. “All done. Let’s go to the meeting room, shall we?”
The business centre was just down the corridor and the room they’d been allocated was bare, apart from a table and chairs and a few friendly mosquitoes that had probably come in with visitors.
Martin pulled his computer out of its bag, connected it and fired it up.
Lara sat tapping her fingers on the table. She checked her watch. It was a quarter past ten. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” she asked.
“It’s Africa,” Jack said. “No one arrives on time.”
“So why do we?” Lara thought of the catnap she’d missed out on, the short shower she’d had to have, the lightning fast application of lipstick.
“I thought you’d figure that out.” Martin was back to his arrogant self. “Because we have to do things by the book. Besides, if you’d brought your computer you could have been working.”
A sound of disbelief escaped her throat. “You told me I didn’t need it!” She tapped her fingers on the table again, staring at Martin.
Suddenly Martin threw his arms up in the air. “It’s bloody useless anyway. I can’t even get on line to check my emails. The connection’s down, surprise, surprise!” He pushed his computer away and tapped his fingers on the table, in rhythm with Lara.
She couldn’t hold back a giggle, and Martin, too, at once more relaxed, chuckled. Jack, who was still standing, his back to the cream wall, his arms crossed, watched their smiles, listened to their lightness. “Ah, finally,” he said, “the moment of truce.”
“Anyone fancy a drink?” Martin stood up, raising his eyebrows while he waited for orders.
Lara frowned. “A drink? What if they arrive?” It was something you wouldn’t do before a meeting in Australia. It seemed inappropriate.
Martin shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s the first thing we do when we have a meeting anyway, order drinks. No alcohol, though.”
“It’s the way business is done here,” Jack explained. “It has to seem as though it’s social at first, it’s the polite thing to do. So we take tea, or a soda, ask if everyone’s family is fine, then we start.”
“In that case, coffee. Strong, please.”
“Jack?”
“Please.”
Martin marched out, a man on a mission. Jack sat facing Lara.
“You handle him well.” It was more than a statement, more than compliment, even. It was a caress, Jack’s strong, suave voice connecting with her deep inside. She tried to focus on the content, pushing away the underlying pleasure.
“Do you think?” It seemed to her she was having trouble with Martin, lots of trouble.
“Definitely. You managed to make him laugh. He usually reduces people to tears in the first couple of days. Even guys. Many have quit.”
“It’s good to know.” The feedback brought her relief. She’d had her suspicions that it wasn’t just her, that Martin was a handful for everyone. She’d even heard it through the grapevine, but it was reassuring to get confirmation from someone in the know.
“There seems to be a bit of tension between the two of you at times.” That was probably the understatement of the year.
Jack looked away. “You can say that again.”
“Say what?” asked Martin, wandering back in.
“That it’s a pain having to wait like this,” blurted out Lara, scared Martin would realise they’d been talking about him.
“Tell me about it.” Martin flopped back into his chair.
A tall, thin African man holding onto a tray of coffee with both hands strolled in, flashing his teeth. “Sorry I cannot knock. My hands are full.”
“It’s all right.” Jack checked his watch. “Are there any messages for us?”
“Sorry, I don’t know. I go and look for you.” The man finished serving the drinks, wiped his hands on his pants and left, nodding at the trio.
Another ten minutes went by before he reappeared briefly, just long enough to say there were no messages.
“How long do we stay?” asked Lara after a while. “It’s been close to an hour.”
“I might give Ismael a call to see if he’s heard anything.” As Jack stood up to go to reception, a man in a suit wearing noticeable white shoes knocked at the door.
“Global Oil, yes?”
Martin nodded. “That’s us.”
“You are waiting for the Minister for Energy, Minister Hamed?”
“We are.”
“I am his new secretary, Kalim Soubouda.” A small man in a large suit walked in and stood next to Kalim. “And you know Mr Mohamed Aziz, yes?”
“Mr Martin, Mr Jack. How are you?” asked Mohamed, the Minister’s right hand. Martin and Jack took turns shaking hands with him, and introduced Lara.
Mohamed smiled briefly, then took on what he probably thought an appropriate expression of dismay to deliver the news. “The Minister is not well today. We have to cancel the meeting.”
“We’re terribly sorry,” Jack said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
“No, but he cannot be here. He must rest.”
“Has he sent word of when we can reschedule?”
“I am afraid we must see how his health goes. God willing, it will be soon.”
Mohamed left and Martin packed up his computer. Yawning, Jack stretched his long arms and stood up to leave.
Lara couldn’t help feeling annoyed. “So what now?”
“Lunch. Maybe we should use the afternoon for a bit of sight-seeing too, the fish markets, maybe even the blacksmiths’ area. Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing the camel market. I haven’t been there yet.”
Lara perked up. It sounded like fun, an adventure. “As long as I don’t have to ride one,” she laughed.
The heat hit them again, the minute they left the hotel to go back to the car. Lara gasped, putting her hand—still cool from the air-conditioned meeting room—to her cheeks.
Jack glanced at her. “You look hot. Really hot.”
He was obviously enjoying the double-entendre. Oh, he was annoying with his teasing! She pursed her lips, but he grinned at her, a smile that lit up his face, creasing his nose in the most endearing way, and she had to smile back.
“Forty six degrees today,” he added, suddenly feigning innocence as Martin glanced at him, and it made Lara want to laugh even more.
Their driver, who’d been sitting in the shade of a nearby tree, got up, and with as much of a sense of urgency a person could muster in the sweltering weather, dragged himself over to open the doors for them.
“Italian food OK?” asked Martin, hardly waiting for agreement before directing the driver to the Piazza Roma restaurant.
The driver started the car, and slowly drove down the main street, before turning left onto a smaller road lined with restaurants. Lara noticed a shiny black Mercedes parked in front
of one of them, and a group of men in suits climbing out of it.
Jack leaned over Lara, to peer through the window on her side and came so close to her that she held her breath, for fear of touching him. Her heart thumped in her chest despite her best efforts to ignore the radiating warmth of his skin, the fresh scent of his hair. “Look!” he exclaimed, turning to Lara and gazing into her eyes, so much so she felt she was drowning and had to look down. “That’s the Minister for Energy. He seems perky, too.”
“So it is,” Martin said, staring out with a frown, “so it is.”
V
“What’s the Minister’s game?” Lara jumped out of the car and headed to the Italian restaurant.
Jack shrugged. “The only thing I know for sure is something’s going on.”
“Shame we can’t just ask him.” Even to a newcomer like Lara, it was obvious that would break protocol.
Jack nodded. “Real shame. But it’s all about saving face here. If we back him into a corner we’re unlikely to get any cooperation from him in the future.”
They would have to wait until the Minister came to them, no matter how long it took. What else could they do? Lara sighed. She wished she didn’t have to play along. She was used to a world where meetings started on time and negotiations were, except in very rare cases, carried out in good faith.
Martin held the door to the restaurant open for Lara and she stepped in, relieved to be once again out of the sweltering heat. As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, she took in the plastic tablecloths, the vinyl chairs and the general gloominess of the premises.
Jack smiled. “One of the better places to eat out.” Their eyes met and she felt his gaze linger a little too long on her lips. She looked away, but couldn’t avoid the fluttering in her stomach. Jack was handsome. Too handsome.
The only other people in the restaurant, two men in blue shirts sitting in a corner, waved at them. “Our engineers,” Martin said by way of explanation.
A man in a bright dwana was sprawled out over two chairs in a corner of the restaurant. He jumped up when he saw his new patrons and escorted them to a table. He pulled out the chairs for them and, as they sat, handed them a menu, beaming.