Dark Oil (6 page)

“Any messages for us?” asked Jack.

“Yes. The Minister's secretary called. The meeting has been brought forward to ten o'clock today.”

Jack checked his watch. “All right people. Fifteen minutes is all we've got. We'll convene down here at nine thirty sharp.”

“Your room is the first one on the right upstairs, Mrs Lara.” Ismael showed off his brilliant white teeth in a smile that seemed so sincere under any other circumstances it would have been contagious. “And if the water doesn't drain it's OK, we fix later.”

Lara held back a cry of despair. Fifteen minutes! It wasn't going to be a long, luxurious shower and a nap. It would be a two minute wash standing in dirty water that didn't drain away. In a quarter of an hour she'd be rushing off to a meeting with top government officials and she'd have to be at her best.

How was it, again, that she had found herself here, making effort upon effort just to earn a living? If only Tim were happy to move to a smaller house, in a less affluent suburb, they could reduce their debt. They'd then be able to live well off one wage. If only he were ready to start a family, she could finally live the life she'd dreamed of for years. A child to cuddle, a family to look after, was all she really wanted. She didn't care about designer clothing, expensive cars and huge homes. It was just more to worry about. A sea change, a simpler life was what she needed. But Tim wasn't ready. Tim was never ready. Every year she talked about the pitter-patter of tiny feet and Tim said he wanted to wait. He always found a good reason to hold off—they had to pay the mortgage, if they held onto the house its value would go up substantially over the next twelve months. Then they needed a new car because he certainly wasn't going to drive a five year old model. They needed a trip overseas. All his colleagues were going away for Christmas and Easter and. . .No, Tim was never ready. And so to work Lara went. But now was not the time to think of Tim. In just fifteen minutes she would be whisked off to a government meeting and she would have to show them all what a high-flying lawyer she'd become. As her tired legs climbed the stairs, a knot formed in her stomach. Would she be able to perform under these conditions in the heat, with hardly any sleep, after thirty two hours or so on planes and in airports?

It wasn't going to be easy, but what could she do? It was too late to step down, too late to refuse the job. There were no options.

She was here for the ride.

Lara thought of Tim as she waited in the entrance for her colleagues. Tim, the man she'd never been away from since they'd married ten years ago. That is, except when he'd left her for a night on the town with the boys, or a fishing trip, or his frequent business trips. But she had never left him and somehow that felt different.

Tim's secretary's voice spoke to Lara again. “He often works from home.” Could she trust him? Of course she could. She kept telling herself so, wanting to believe it. She imagined him checking his watch, asking himself what time it was in Negala, what Lara would be doing. Yes, he'd be thinking of her, wondering if she'd arrived safely—or would he be asleep?

She was busy counting the time difference when Jack arrived. He had changed into a suit of the finest material and she couldn't help admiring it. He had matched it with a green silk tie that brought out the colour of his eyes. He certainly knew how to dress.

He held out a phone, glancing discreetly but with obvious appreciation at Lara's clothes. “The mobile we said you could have while you're here. It works. Well, sometimes. I've entered Martin's number and mine in the contacts. You look the part, by the way.”

She slid the mobile into her pocket. “Thanks. So do you.” She'd changed into a tailored, long-sleeved, grey dress—not black, black was associated with mourning in too many places—– and pearls. You couldn't go wrong with those in any country.

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.”