The Emissary (7 page)

The presidential suite at the hotel was luxury in overdrive—pure, understated elegance. Mat Anderson clearly knew how to make a statement, about this Jamie had no doubt whatsoever. He was proving himself to be the king of Southern hospitality, and he definitely lived up to his promise of pure VIP treatment, door-to-door. She was duly impressed.

A most exquisite bouquet of her favorite flowers—irises, baby pink roses, and daffodils—filled the dining room table with her colors: the colors of Spring. How he could have known these were her absolutely favorite flowers she didn’t know … but she was sure it was no accident.

The refined decor smacked of old money and had a distinctive male feel to it, with its dark leather couches and high-end rustic antique furniture. Everything was exquisite—and expensive. A subtle scent of sweet tobacco permeated the lounge—no doubt emanating from the suite’s own cigar room, off the living room. All things considered, the men of the world were still, primarily, the ones holding the big money strings. Surely a few sheiks and their entourages had been hosted there before her. She knew that opulence was all part of the OPEC theater, and laying it on was part of the deal-making game, in which all the key players were constantly trying to outdo each other. The stakes were too high not to. She was not the
least bit interested in getting caught up in it, but it was undeniably pleasant enjoying a taste of it—Texas style.

Within minutes of being escorted to the suite, the phone rang. It was Louise, calling to formalize Jamie’s arrival at the hotel and officially welcoming her, on the part of her boss.

Jamie thanked her, as she fumbled with her purse, trying to tip the bellman. He refused, politely, and closed the door behind him. Tips, extras, flowers: USOIL saw to all the details.

“You’ve got the whole day to enjoy the spa if you like … everything is already signed to the room, so you just enjoy yourself. It’s all been arranged for you.” It was clear that Louise managed all the VIP hospitality details for Mat. “I took the liberty of scheduling you in for a hot stone massage at noon. The spa is always booked up in advance.”

Jamie was a bit overwhelmed, having not even had a chance to set her bag down. “Oh, okay, thanks,” she replied. “I think I can make that!”

“It’s just a miracle to get someone in at the last minute, but you just let them know if y’all are not up for it.”

Jamie thanked Louise for the gesture and assured her she would definitely not cancel.

“Mr. Anderson will be there for you at seven this evening to escort you to dinner. Enjoy your day!” Louise said, attempting to sound cheery and efficient, but the sharpness of her resentment and a touch of pure female jealousy clipped her words just enough for Jamie to know she was not that welcome at all.

At 7:00 p.m. sharp, Jamie stepped out of the elevator, looking poised and relaxed, after a day of self-indulgent spa treatments at Houston’s finest. She cut such a striking figure, her unpretentious beauty radiating light around her—a rare and indefinable essence that
simply commanded attention whenever she entered a room. More than her physical beauty was this mystical quality about her, as if she were aglow from the inside out. Her eyes, warm and embracing, were like lighthouses, in a sea of vacuous faces passing in the night. Her presence was disarming and she had this very magical quality about her. Everywhere she went, people noticed—both men and women alike.

Even though she’d never before set eyes on him, Jamie walked right up to Mat, who was at the front desk, on the house phone. He had his back to her, yet she intuitively knew it was he. He could feel a presence from across the room but, when he turned to see who was approaching, he was amazed to see Jamie walking straight towards him. It was not that often that someone could catch him off guard. In fact, it was just about next to impossible.

“Mat Anderson?” she asked, stretching her hand out to greet him.

Mat was visibly taken aback. “Well now, that is impressive, I have to say.” They shook hands. “I mean, wowee. I guess there aren’t too many women who can walk up to strange men in hotels like you can.” He bit his lip, knowing how the comment could easily have been interpreted as a real insult and he hadn’t meant it to be. “What I mean is, it must be nice bein’ able to just cut through formalities and all that.”

“It is,” Jamie said, feeling quietly pleased that she had managed to catch him with his guard down, and fumbling. It was a great way to begin the evening’s negotiations, which were bound to be forthcoming, sometime closer to cocktails than dinner.

“Well, then, let’s have a drink to no formalities between us,” he said, motioning towards the restaurant. “I actually reserved dinner here tonight—it’s one of my favorite places … best Italian food in town, and I know the chef personally.” He placed his hand gently on Jamie’s back and guided her towards the restaurant entrance,
where the maitre d’ welcomed him by name and immediately escorted them to a private dining room.

As they were being seated, Mat said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t ever talk business in a crowded room. The walls have ears … I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

Jamie was thinking, “Oh, honey, if only you knew!”

He waved over the waiter. “A bottle of your finest.” He then turned his attention to Jamie. “I want to thank you for accepting my invitation, for starters.”

Jamie thanked him back. In all fairness, he was the one jumping through all the hoops to make the meeting happen. All she’d done was to accept his more than gracious hospitality.

The waiter returned with a bottle of vintage Cristal, popped the cork, and poured. Mat tasted the champagne, and nodded his approval, before the waiter poured for Jamie. He set the bottle in the ice bucket, and walked away, discreetly.

Mat proposed a toast to their “mutually beneficial union,” and the conversation was off and running.

“I hope my crew took good care of you on the way over.”

“I almost didn’t want to get off the plane,” she replied. “Thank you, Mat. That was a very generous thing to do.”

“That’s fine. My pleasure. We aim to please.” He took his cell phone from his pocket, opened the back casing, and removed the battery before placing it on the table in front of him. “So I guess by now you have fully understood that I have something very important I need to discuss with you.”

“I guess!” Jamie answered, sipping the world’s finest champagne from a beautiful Waterford cut crystal flute. One thing was certain—whatever he planned to talk about, he definitely did not want anyone else in on it.

“I’m not good at small talk, so excuse me if I cut right to it here. I have got to tell you, Miss Jamie, I have never in my life heard of
anything like what you did for them Pakis, out there in the desert. I could barely believe it when I first heard about it—when I was, shall we say, investigating y’all.”

Jamie sat back in her chair, placing her glass back down on the table, feeling suddenly defensive. “And to what do I owe the honor of being investigated by the CEO of USOIL, Mr. Mat?”

“Hell’s bells, lady … finding three wells out there in the desert—that makes you an extremely valuable commodity. Extremely valuable. I can’t understand at all how you did it, and I can’t even understand how you managed to walk away from it!” Mat raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Jamie Hastings! You have got to be some kind of remarkable.”

Jamie raised a glass back. “Cheers to you, my curious and generous host.” Inside, she was thinking, “Good god. Oil, oil, oil. Where will it all end?”

“You just have the most remarkable track record—it’s some story to a guy like me,” he said. “Why, you have actually made me a believer, and that is no easy feat, let me tell you.”

Guarded, Jamie simply said, “Thank you.” Listening to Mat and watching his body language, she couldn’t help comparing him to the bumbling George Bush Jr., reminding herself that under the clownish veneer that he presented to the world, Bush was a ruthless oil man himself—all of them members of the same “club elite.” Maybe some giant machine just cut and pasted them all out of the same mold.

“But wow … three wells out there in Pakistan. That is just this side of unbelievable! How in the hell did you manage to get out of there, once you struck gold for those greedy bastards?”

Jamie was becoming annoyed with Mat’s probing and the emerging racist edge to his talk. “After locating that first site, I was asked to stay and, to my client’s utter amazement, I found another two.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And they just let you go?”

“What a strange question—of course they ‘let’ me go. I finished what I had gone to do and left. Why would that surprise you?”

Mat realized he was pushing, and that she already had her back up. “Sorry—I do have experience with my colleagues over there. I just find it surprising that they let you slip out of their hands like that.”

She felt uncomfortable at the idea that he would even think she could be held against her will. “Well, for starters, the psychic faculty can’t be forced. They knew that I was tapped out, after finding those sites, and I can tell you that they were more than satisfied with what they got.”

“Well, they sure as hell should have been, with three brand-new wells to pump—man oh man! That is utterly out of this world.”

The waiter appeared, just to refill their glasses, and then disappeared immediately. It wasn’t the first time he had served Mat Anderson in the private dining room. The staff knew that the CEO of USOIL didn’t want anyone around until he wanted someone around, and whoever waited on him had to know how to dance to that rhythm.

“And now, you have brought me all the way here because you want me to go out and find you some oil, is that right?”

Mat felt Jamie tightening up and a “no, thank you” forthcoming.

“Well, yes, I guess I’m pretty obvious about what I’m looking for, here. We’re out searching for oil in the Pacific, up there in the north—well, actually, we’ve been moving north after two years off the California coast.”

“Brilliant,” she said sarcastically, interrupting. “You’re in one of the richest ocean ecosystems of the planet. Rumor has it, for us mere mortals, that this ocean region is protected against drilling. Are you telling me that is not the case, and that we’ve been duped, yet again?”

“Well, yes, Miss Jamie,” he replied, ignoring her comment, “and I’d like you to listen up, because I am very aware of the ecological danger that poses. You see, I am in no mood for another big oil disaster out there, especially one with our name on it. That would finish us off, proper.”

“Not to mention what it would mean for the ocean, of course,” she retorted.

“Well, of course … that goes without sayin’.”

“I’d like to think so.…”

He tossed some almonds into his mouth and washed them down with a big gulp of champagne, as if he were drinking a glass of soda, rather than the most expensive champagne in the world. “I mean, I live on this planet, too, and I’ve got grandkids. I want them to be able to swim out in the big, beautiful ocean, and I want their kids, after them, out there too—but they’re going to have to find a way to get there from here. That’s going to take fuel, ma’am. That is our dilemma, right there.”

Jamie listened attentively—trying to read him on all levels. “There won’t be any ocean worth driving to if the maniacal, unquenchable thirst for oil keeps leeching the life out of the seas and the rest of the Earth. Your industry is pushing the Earth to its limits, do any of you realize that? It’s insane what you’re doing to the planet.”

“Well, I know that, ma’am. That is why y’all are here. I want to see that another disaster does not happen.”

“Well then, why don’t you call your boys off and get, as they say, ‘out of the water’?”

“Now, you know that isn’t gonna happen. I mean, the world runs on oil and we need more and more to keep things going out here and …”

Jamie interrupted before he could finish. “… And alternative energy, clearly, is not on the table, because there’s not enough money in it for all the fat cats to build more obscene wealth, right?”

Mat fumbled with his cocktail napkin, folding the edges, nervously. “We’re workin’ on it,” he replied, knowing, as the words came out of his mouth, that Jamie could see right through them.

“Why am I here?” she asked, abruptly. “There’s no point us talking about the justifications for drilling for oil. You’re an oil man, period. Tell me what it is you think I can do for you.”

He knew he was clearly losing ground with her and didn’t know how to get the conversation back on track. “Miss Jamie, I have a five-year agreement with the U.S. and Canadian governments, giving me rights to explore out there, before anybody else gets a shot at it. Two are gone—wasted. I’ve got three more years: I get things done the right way, we get our platform set up out there, and nobody else can move in. We have a clean track record—no accidents directly attributed to our corporation. I do not want anything to happen to the environment. No ma’am. But I have to make the brass in New York and the politicians in Washington happy. I have to find the crude. And I need help.”