by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 7
In Milan, Guido was also going about his daily business.
He was holding the mobile phone, as usual, in the fold beneath his chin, his pink lips wet with saliva. Scrolling through pages of words on his computer screen, he had been babbling away to himself. It suddenly stopped, he put his head to one side, his ear on the phone.
"OK. You still there, Toni? Now then, scroll further down where it says a total of EUR 57,150,000 from budget article blah blah is allocated to improve the delivery of aid through transport and complimentary activities aimed at increasing effectiveness, quality, timeliness and visibility of humanitarian actions. Yah, that's it my friend. That's where our little friend Akram will come in useful. He needs to organise the finer details of the funding application - now, Toni, now. Not sit and wait or it'll be too late. Efficiency matters. Efficiency oils the wheels. If he does as he's told he can earn himself a little more money to buy milk for his next new baby. How many does he have now? Six?"
There was a pause followed by another high pitched chuckle as if Toni might have added a touch of humour that pleased Guido.
"Does Akram's first wife know about Akram's second wife's new baby, Toni?......No, I thought not. But if he can't organise his private life then he needs to organise his business life. You know what to do. No time like the present. The early bird will catch the worm. He must cut his grass when the sun is shining. I thought I liked Akram when I met him in Dubai. He was a handsome and bright young man and I trained him very well. But he is now very bad at dreaming up problems that don't exist. He wastes my fucking time and I can't tolerate him anymore. You deal with him. And tell him he needs to keep his trousers on."
There was a short pause as he listened to the one called Toni, picked at a back tooth with his finger nail and sucked at whatever it was he extracted. Then:
"Yah, and he has another weakness, Toni. He needs to improve his understanding of banks. His other boss, our friendly Finance Minister, is due to speak today at the Government's post budget speech. He will be expecting big things of Akram. That means that our friendly Finance Minister is expecting big things of us - Toni and Guido. So you must speak to Akram, Toni. Tell him you've spoken to Guido and Guido says I might promote him to Head of Operations North West Pakistan one day. He'll like that title. He can go back home with pride, he can drive there in his new Toyota and boast of his success to his stupid, impoverished neighbours. But first he needs to meet his targets. One million dollars is easy, so tell him his half of one percent commission will be more than enough to feed a fifth baby by a third wife if he has one. It can be a very fat baby. But if he cannot meet his target we will have to speak to people much higher up and they will not be as soft as Guido. Akram still has two hands, doesn't he? Can he work with one?"
There was another pause.
"And then, Toni, there is that prick Tawfik. This bastard needs to be taught a lesson. I give him one more chance only. Tell him this. It is not right that one million Euros was lost. Where has it gone? Tell me. Tawfik is a very poor investment. It is six years we have been in this business. Tell him Guido is very cross about him. Yah. Tell him Guido will cut off his salary or, worse, Guido will cut off his balls and spread rumours for the long ears of the provincial authorities and the police. You know what that means, Toni? Yah - they are very nasty people. They are very, very nasty to those without any balls. And while he will sleep with the rats and eat dry bread and water, Guido will still be sleeping, purring like a cat in his warm bed. Tell him many more things, Toni. Tell him he is like a bucket with holes. Tell him that if it happens again Guido will find a new bucket and throw him away - down a steep hill in the Khyber Pass. You see, Toni, Tawfiq is nothing. He is just an office boy."
Whether the person, Toni, on the other end of the phone was joining in with Guido's humour was not audible, but Toni, himself, clearly now had something to say. Guido, with drops of perspiration running off his greasy forehead listened. As he did, he leaned back in his chair, now sucking noisily on the plastic cap of a cheap ballpoint pen. But the smile and the chuckle was gone. The round face with the greasy black strands of hair now looked distinctly unhappy. His mouth twisted sideways. Finally, it appeared he had had enough. He sat forward, pulled the phone from beneath his chin and interrupted.
"OK, Enough! What the fuck are you saying, Toni? There is no-one like us out there. There are only cheats out there. We are the best because we have built the systems. Six years and we have everything in place. We are experienced. We are superior. We are sophisticated. We are the only ones. I do not want to hear you say that, Toni, OK?"
He listened briefly, once more, before throwing the chewed pen top across the room where it bounced off the fan and disappeared into a corner. "It is impossible! I do not believe this......... go check again. It is not possible. That is another one million Euros. It is incredible. Find out more.........OK, so don't fuck about. Pay him to find out some more. Yah, I know he's a greedy bastard. Tahir was always a greedy bastard. But if he knows something then give him something.....of course........are you stupid, Toni? Give it afterwards, not before."
There was a short silence as Guido continued to listen and roll the remnants of the pen between his fingers. The boyish chuckle had, by now, been replaced by throaty growl like a small dog. Then he said more quietly, "Oh, give him what he wants, Toni..... Tahir is like a little baby...and probably a little bastard baby.... so when he starts to cry like he's a hungry little bastard baby it means he wants his bottle.......it's feeding time..... give Tahir what Tahir likes to drink...... give him some fucking whisky."