And George saw his father’s subtle, almost invisible relief.He’s a wily fox, my dad,I forgot.
An hour later, George stifled a yawn. He hadn’t slept since Friday night, and even that had been three hours. After the two days he’d just had, the last thing he needed was a long, boring meeting about a building licence for some garment manufacturer. So he had taken a back seat, and whenever Morris tried to draw him in, to ask questions to which George couldn’t possibly know the background, he simply inclined his head and said, “I agree with my father.”
He allowed the talk to go over his head while scanning his emails on his phone. Arguments and counter arguments went round in circles, more boring than watchingpaint dry.
He scratched the back of his neck, then remembered Millie’s hands clasped there, pulling his head down. Muscular memory, unlike his brain, didn’t obey his orders—his hips still felt fused to her body, wet heat and motion, his hands under her knees, pushing them up. He only had to move his tongue inside his mouth to tasteher again—
“The workforce is mostly women from rough neighbourhoods and ethnic minorities,” Morris was saying. “They probably need preferential terms?”
Something in Morris’ tone, the way he phrased the question, rang distant alarm bells. George kept his eyes on his phone, but his attention was now fully focussed on the discussion inthe room.
Something inside him, a sixth sense, was telling him to jump in and interrupt. But say what? He’d missed chunks of the discussion.
“I’m not allowing it,” Du Montfort replied. “A gaggle of immigrant women with thieving husbands and delinquent children coming to ruin the island? Out of thequestion.”
George winced. His father was seventy-one, and back in the 1940s when he was born, racism and sexism were considered good European values. He had a wide reputation for political incorrectness, and everyone knew of his quick temper.
Morris had clearly manipulated the old man into ill-advised words. “As you wish,” he now said with oily politeness. “But I suspect the investors will take us to court for discrimination. I hope Glinn-Etsell don’t have good litigators.”
Bloody hell. Glinn-Etsell? That’s who the investors were?George knew of them, an arm of a multi-national corporation. Calling them good litigators was like calling Godzilla an irritated lizard. He remained perfectly still, but his mind workedfuriously.
A discrimination case would not be against the island’s municipal administration; it would be against his father personally.
He’d be disgraced in the press.Racist Lord Says No Jobs For Black Women, Evil Du Montfort, Queen Must Renounce Count Dracule of La Canette.
What a way for his father to end his tenure asseigneur.
That’s why Sweeny was here. Morris needed a witness to any indictable comments. They had his father over a barrel now; he would have to agree to the deal or face prosecution.
“Let them do their worst,” his father said irritably. “I’ve made my position clear. This meeting is at an end.” His fatherknew. He didn’t show it, but for a fleeting moment, their eyes met and George saw the deep worry behind his father’s temper. The discussion had gone on for so long; he’d become tired and slipped up. Clearly, Morris had planned itthat way.
Why was he playing dirty? What was in it for him?
“Just a minute, Father.” George kept his voice innocent. “I wonder if we can negotiate with Glinn-Etsell throughmyconnections. I can probably strike a new deal with them.”
The smile slipped from Morris’ face. “I don’t think we can do that. I meantheycan’t.” He looked to Sweenyfor help.
But the other man lookedconfused.
Morris tried again. “They wouldn’t want to, because…” he said, panic creeping into his voice. “Because they have already started the deal through the official channels here.”
So, Morris was worried he’d be cut out of the deal?Got you, you vile hyena.
“Morris?” George pinned him with a stare. “I wonder if you would help mein this.”
“Of course, but how?” Morris seemed desperate to salvage something of the deal for himself.
“There was a case against Glinn-Etsell in Holland,” George said, “for offering kickbacks.” Actually there wasn’t, but there was no way that Morris, a small provincial office-jockey, would know.
Morris’ face turned an ugly shade of ash.
“Since then, Glinn-Etsell have been at pains to demonstrate they are above suspicion.” George continued. “So, I would likeyou, Morris, and please ask Sweeny to help, I’d like you to investigate if there’s been any backroom deals here.”
“I’m sure there aren’t,” Morris said with huge emphasis. “We have nothing like that in our administration.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. But run the investigation anyway. I’d like to assure our new investors that we, too, are above suspicion. In the meantime I will draft a new directive that anyone working for La Canette Municipality caught accepting perks, back-handers, commission or sweeteners of any kind will be dismissed for gross misconduct.”
Morris wasnow green.
