Dark Oil (14 page)

“Yes, I'll have a look at it this afternoon. While I've got you on the phone, Dave, Minister Hamed mentioned to us earlier that he sent you a notice of breach of the PSC about six weeks ago. About the section twelve reports.”

She looked up at the Minister and as candidly as possible said, “He hasn't received it.” She couldn't repeat Dave's answer, and had to suppress a smile at the expletives that accompanied it, but her sanitised version got the message across.

“He says the reports were sent.” Not on time, but she didn't need to highlight that to the Minister right now.

Minister Hamed sat down again, and, crossing his arms, leaned forward. Lara hung up. It was obvious there was more to discuss.

The Minister narrowed his eyes. “We did not receive the documents. Under the right conditions we may be able to find the reports lost in the post. We may also be able to prove the President of the Republic of Negala did not write that.” He pointed to the infamous letter Jack was holding again.

“Under the right conditions?” asked Lara. She thought she knew what he meant, but that couldn't be, could it?

The Minister nodded. “Let's say if certain contributions can be made. There is no need for documentation. No need to change the contracts.”

So that was it. The Minister had cut to the chase. He wanted a bribe. She suspected he had intended to drag things out before asking, to wear them down, day after day, leaving them waiting in Negala for weeks before granting them another meeting. Luckily, the call to Dave had precipitated things.

There was no way the company would give Hamed what he wanted. It wasn't the way Global Oil operated. It wasn't that kind of player. And there was no way any one of them would personally want to get involved in illegal activities. Lara was sure of that. Negala was dangerous enough as it was.

She knew better than anyone else the risk of prosecution both in Negala (and what a great excuse to have them thrown in jail) and back home. In any event she believed in doing things by the book, and she was sure Martin and Jack did, too.

Martin leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “I'm afraid that will not be possible.”

The Minister glared at him. “Put it to your superiors. It is an important decision, Mr Martin.”

Jack came to Martin's aid. “Our superiors will say the same, I can vouch for that. But we will put it to them.”

The Minister stood, gesturing to Kalim to show out his now unwelcome visitors. “Mr Martin, Mr Jack.”

He ignored Lara as she walked past him into the corridor. She'd outsmarted him by speaking to Dave Maine and the Minister would have suspected, if not known, she'd orchestrated that phone call.

The trio left the tired government building in silence, none of them voicing their concerns for fear of being overheard. Even in the car they kept their comments to a minimum, wary of the driver. It seemed no one could be trusted in Negala.

The minute they were back inside the house, and he'd checked Bengali wasn't around, cleaning or tidying papers on the desk they'd told him a million times to leave alone, Martin let Jack have it, his anger unfurling without restraint like a tidal wave smashing the shore.

“
You
told him, didn't you?” Martin yelled, frothing at the mouth as he pinned Jack against the wall. And in his surprise Jack, who was slightly taller and much stronger than Martin, let him. “You told him we were in breach.”

“Of course not!” Jack exclaimed. “Why on earth would I?”

“That's right, play innocent.” Martin shook his head, his thin lips curling down in disgust.

It seemed to take Jack aback even more. “I mean it. Why would I?”

“Because I'd be the first to go. If we can't get ourselves out of this mess it's my head and you know it. The perfect opportunity to get rid of me. You'd run the show. Alan was very clear from day one. He's angry I didn't pick up on the mistake our friends in Legal made. He's giving me another chance, but I'm walking a tightrope.”

Martin looked Jack up and down, with disgust. “And you, you have no morals. You'd be happy to take advantage of the situation. You always do.” Martin glanced at Lara. “If I got the sack, you'd be alone with Lara, at least until they sent in a replacement. And you'd do what you did with Ange, you bastard.”

So there was a woman involved. That figured. Lara had known all along there was more to the pair's animosity than professional competition and excess testosterone. She wondered what the story was. Who was Ange? What had she meant to them?

Suddenly Jack gave Martin what looked like a little shove. It certainly seemed effortless, but Martin jumped back two metres, wobbling until he recovered his balance.

Jack's voice was steady, but Lara could see from the way he kept clenching his jaw that he was on edge. “I didn't tell him and I never took advantage of anything. So get off my back.” Jack turned to Lara. “And you didn't either, did you?” His feline gaze troubled her
more than the question, for she knew she was innocent and his gentle tone suggested he did, too.

“Definitely not.” She looked him in the eye. She never would have told the Minister they'd been late submitting reports. She was a lawyer. She was used to confidentiality, used to keeping her mouth shut and not letting anything slip.

“So there you have it, Martin. It was neither of us. Now who does that leave?”

As Jack started up the multi-coloured stairs, Martin again threw himself at him. “You think you can just walk away?”

Jack turned around and with one simple gesture, an outstretched arm and a hand raised in a nearly perpendicular line, stopped Martin in his tracks. Lara couldn't help but admire his strength and calm. It surprised her. She thought it would have ended up in a fist fight by now, but Jack controlled himself. He seemed to be on a mission.

Jack looked at them both, bringing his finger to his lips to signal he wanted them to be quiet. Suddenly, there was no animosity in his eyes. He waved them up the stairs behind him, leading them to the study.

“So where shall we eat today? Fancy another pizza, Lara?” Jack was making small talk and Lara wasn't sure why.

Martin sneered, probably thinking this was some cowardly way of avoiding confrontation. He went to open his mouth, but Jack quickly shook his head, and for reasons unknown to Lara, Martin, somewhat taken aback, decided he'd play the game.

“I'm getting tired of pizza, actually,” she said. “Is there really nothing else around here?”

Jack shrugged. “Barbecued camel if you fancy.”

She laughed. “I'm not that tired of pizza.”

Jack smiled at her and she lowered her eyes to the floor, hoping to stop the gentle flutter in her stomach.

What happened next was something Lara never imagined would one day be part of her reality. Jack took the phone off the hook and huddling over it like a boy wanting to hide his favourite toy, unscrewed the receiver. He put it back together, and then followed the phone line under the desk.

He waved again to Lara and Martin, directing them to the floor. As they crouched down they saw he was pointing to the phone wiring. The casing had been cut, and two tiny clips attached to the bare wire, inserting a black electronic box the size of a matchbox into the circuit. It had all been cleverly hidden in the wall behind what looked like plaster board repairs, but it took more than that to fool Jack.

Jack came out from under the desk and pretended to turn on the light. He then climbed onto the desk, unscrewed the light bulb and got down.

“Oh, damn it. The light bulb's gone again. We'll have to get another one. I'll ask Bengali later. Well, it's been quite a morning. Are you feeling better, Lara? Stomach cramps gone?” Jack was still chatting as he wrote on a blank piece of paper.

“Much better, thanks.” Lara craned her neck to see the magic message that had changed Martin's expression from that of a fighting bull to a doe-eyed donkey.

“Here's the address of that place I was telling you both about.” Jack slid the piece of paper over the desk to Lara. The words were simple, but effective.

We're bugged. Just chat.

Lara stared at them in disbelief.

Lara, Jack and Martin took turns wiping their brow as they stood in the sweltering midday heat in a dusty back street. It was usually much cooler in October in Zakra, but summer had dragged on and was showing no sign of relenting.

They were down the road from Global Oil's leased house, only minutes away from all the more upmarket accommodation of the many companies trying to get their share of Negala's mineral wealth, but it was clear the housing here was not held by corporate giants.

Around them were tiny houses of dried mud, some lime washed green or blue. They had neither windows nor doors, just openings without glass or shutters from some of which hung old cotton rags in a futile attempt to keep out heat and flies. Gardens and garages were non-existent, as was fencing, so it was hard to see where a property ended and a new one began.

Lara scanned the area for prying eyes and curious ears, but there was no one around, just a man nudging along a donkey down the end of the street. Apart from the faint cry of a child in the distance all was quiet.

“How did you know we were bugged? How did you know what to look for?” She shook her head, still bewildered. She simply couldn't believe what had just happened. It was the stuff of movies, not something she'd ever expected to experience.

Jack shrugged. “Military training many moons ago. I knew it would come in handy one day.” He smiled the way only he did. As their eyes met Lara felt a tingle down her back. It was slight, yet enough to remind her once again of the undeniable attraction she did her best to ignore.

She turned to Martin. “What are we going to do?” She had ideas of her own, but Martin must have been feeling like a fool since pinning innocent Jack to the wall. Bringing him into the conversation seemed like the right thing to do, a kind gesture. Besides, it took her mind off Jack and his seductive gaze.

Martin smiled, but not in his usual arrogant, ‘told you so' way. It was humble and fleeting, enough for Lara to understand he was grateful. “I think we should ring Alan,” he said. “We tell him we have a proposal from the Minister. The Minister isn't going to be here for a couple of weeks, the proposal is complex. We suggest we come home and brief him fully.” Martin cleared his throat and with a timid sideway glance addressed Jack. “What do you think?”

Lara looked down at the sandy ground beneath her feet as she shifted it from side to side with her shoe. How was Jack going to reply? Would he dig in his heels, or try to make things work? In any case, she was pleased Martin was making the effort to seek Jack's view. It was an obvious peace offering.

As if nothing had happened back at the house, or he had no memory of it, Jack nodded, raising his eyebrows in what seemed sincere agreement. “Absolutely, that's what we do.” There was no animosity in his tone and his expression was one of friendliness and collaboration.

She had to hand it to Jack, he was pragmatic and forgiving. He was surprising and, she had to admit, admirable in more ways than one. At that moment an outsider would never have detected the quasi-permanent tension between the two men.

Tension caused by Ange. Who was she? What had happened between Martin, Jack and the mysterious woman? Lara was dying to find out, but one thing was clear: now was not the time to ask.

“Yes, that's what we do.” Jack held his hand out to Martin, who shook it in silence. “And hope Alan will tell us to come home.”

“Hope to
God
Alan tells us to come home” Lara added, her heart beating faster with panic at the very thought the CEO might insist on them staying.

They started back to the house, dragging their feet through the hot sand. You could see in places this must have been a road, although unsealed, but a road nevertheless. Now there were so many pot holes and so much sand had blown in from the ever advancing desert, that at best you could call it a track.

The warm wind blew a plastic bag in her direction and it wrapped itself around her leg. She peeled it off and scrunched it up, then looked around wondering what to do with it.

“Just throw it.” Martin pointed to the ground. “There's so much rubbish everywhere, and no bins. There's nothing else you can do.”

“What's with all the rubbish anyway?” she asked, wondering why there seemed to be so much of it around the streets. Strange though, she hadn't noticed it when they arrived, or yesterday for that matter.

“There's no disposal system. They pack it up on trucks every week, drive it out to the desert and it gradually blows back in. So you may as well chuck it onto the street. That's the bin.” Jack was matter of fact.

“Really? It must bring disease.” And then there was the smell, unpleasant at best. “Can't they at least dig a hole and bury the stuff?” She couldn't understand it.

Martin shook his head. “High water table.”

“And not much water so they can't afford to poison it with waste,” added Jack.

Resigned, she opened her hand and watched the bag twirl in the wind like a giant leaf. It flew across the track, through a yard and then a doorway, disappearing into someone's home. Out came a brown chicken clucking as it scurried across the yard, frightened by the plastic.

“When we're back at the house, it's important we behave normally,” said Jack. “We have to talk business, or they'll realise we know the place is bugged.”

Lara nodded. “Sure, but no sensitive information.” She was limiting the potential damage up front, foreseeing possible complications. That was what she was trained to do. “It's safe to talk about the things we've already said to them, plus banal topics like going home, the office layout, filing backlogs, even the personality of co-workers.” She chuckled, before adding, “we'll need to bear in mind the conversation is probably being recorded and we want to avoid actions for defamation.”