Page 97 of Warlord’s Empire

Prime Minister: It was a good drive, but I sliced it so it ended up on the wrong fairway. I had to go around a tree to get to the green. I bogied the hole.

President: Your aim has been off for a while. If you aren’t careful, you’ll be kicked off the course.

Saskia frowned. It seemed like an odd thing to say. Why would Branislav be kicked off the golf course for bad aim? Saskia didn’t know much about golf, but she didn’t think a golf club would eject someone for hitting their ball onto the wrong fairway.

She went back to the transcript, reading a few more lines, trying to make sense of it so she could get her translation correct.

Prime Minister: I’ve had enough pars on this course to keep my reputation intact. I will take a lesson, straighten out my drive. You don’t have to worry about my golf game.

President: Don’t forget who sponsored your application to get into the club. My membership is almost due and if the club chooses not to renew it, you’ll lose your position too. We’re in this together.

Prime Minister: I’ve always been committed to this club. You don’t need to threaten my membership. I’ll continue to talk to the other members; make sure our memberships are secure.

President: I want to see action, Branislav. Your words are cheap. Get me the votes or get off the course.

Votes. What did voting have to do with golf? Was it an ultra-exclusive club where members voted on the participation of other members? For the first time in her life, she wished she knew more about golf.

Why was it bothering her so much? Her job was to translate, not understand. Still, she was bored and this translation would probably never see the light of day anyway, so why not do a little digging? What could it hurt?

Maybe the answer to this weird section was in the nuance she couldn’t get off a transcript. She needed to hear the actual conversation, listen to the tone of their voices.

Saskia hadn’t been given a copy of the recorded conversation, but she knew where to find it. When she tried to login to her government employee portal, she discovered she was locked out.

She chewed her lip, thinking. She really wanted to get her hands on that recording. An idea came to her, but she doubted it would work.

Aurelia had given Saskia her login information so Saskia could have access to exactly this sort of thing. Technically, they weren’t supposed to share passwords, but Auralia had been a busy woman, and Sakia was good at her job. Auralia had given her access because eventually Saskia would have had her own access.

She punched in Aurelia’s username and password. “It worked.” She was surprised, but supposed their IT department had simply forgotten to deactivate Aurelia’s access after her death.

Saskia had a brief moment of grief over Aurelia's murder as she dug though the dead woman's portal. Even though this was Auralia's work account, there were traces of her personality in how she named and organized the files, in the slide show of family pictures on her background screen.

“There it is,” Saskia murmured, clicking on the phone call that had taken place eight months earlier.

Picking up her headphones, Saskia fast-forwarded the conversation to the strange section in the middle of their golfing conversation.

“I’ve always been committed to this club. You don’t need to threaten my membership.” Branislav’s tone was pleading, urging. “I’ll continue to talk to the other members; make sure our positions are secured.”

“I want to see action, Branislav. Your words are cheap. Get me the votes or get off the course.” President Urban’s tone was hard, angry, dismissive.

There was such a lack of professionalism in the exchange, it seemed odd to Saskia that it wasn’t cut out of the transcript before it came to her. They would be humiliated if the conversation was made public. Two men in the highest offices of their country bickering over golf.

The image of Aurelia’s body rose to Saskia’s mind and she shuddered. “They can’t be related.” Could they? Was she making a leap? The conversation was unusual, but the two men had discussed golf in past translations.

“When?” she asked herself, suddenly curious how those conversations had gone. If she was remembering correctly, there had been another conversation in March the year before.

She clicked on the conversation. She couldn’t remember exactly where the golf talk had happened, so she was forced to sit through forty-five minutes of internal party discussion wondering if she was nuts for going to so much effort for no reason when she found the spot.

“How was your golf game Saturday?” President Urban asked Branislav. “Did you achieve your goal?”

“It went very well,” Branislav said in a braggy tone Saskia had heard many times before. “Got a hole-in-one on the eighth. I had the other players exactly where I wanted them.”

Weren’t holes-in-one incredibly difficult to get? And wait… was he golfing in March? It was an outdoor sport, and March was cold and often snowy. A quick Google search showed that she was right, golf courses were not open at that time of year in Czechia.

The President spoke next. “Are we on our way to getting the votes we need for another five years at the club?”

“Yes, I believe if I can keep hitting the holes with as few strokes as possible, we’ll have the votes.” A long pause followed, then he added, “If we don’t get the votes, then we can pay for membership.”

“That is a last resort,” Urban snapped.