Morningstar Manor

Ted had come home for a few days - dental appointment, parties with friends, the obligatory dinner at home and debriefing at the office.

Dad was disgustingly fit and his mental acuity didn't seem to have dulled in the slightest, which was infuriating on one level but comforting on another. No worries about Alzheimers or senile decay for loyal servants of Ouroubos.

Mum tried to be reasonable, in fact couldn't have been sweeter or more attentive. But he kept overhearing her on the phone to friends gushing over her grand-daughter and his perverted brother and his - Christ on a bike - husband and that made Ted gag.

After three days of seeing her flush as she noticed him and end the call and turn a sweet but low wattage smile in his direction he had had enough and decided to call someone he rather admired for having freed himself of both father and competing sibling.

"Mr Temminck please. Oh - Ted Fanshawe," he said and snarled as he was put on hold.

The operator had connected him quite quickly this time and Ted leaned back in his seat on the balcony of the hotel, looked out over the arid countryside and smiled as he heard the voice on the other end.

"Manny," he said. "have I got news for you?"

Ted was waiting in the lobby for his guest, feeling a little less frazzled than he had when he had arrived, but still somewhat red around the eyes.

He leafed through one of the local papers but half his attention was on the entrance and when he saw Manny Temminck he got up and went to meet him.

"Manny," he greeted. "Looking prosperous!"

There was a lot of noise on the line, some of which might or might not be wire taps. Ted didn't know and wasn't prepared to take chances.

As soon as it was answered he said, "Hello, I'm ringing long distance from Angola. Would be most grateful for a quick word with Mr Temminck."

The latest girl was blonde and beautiful and had the most grating laugh that Ted had ever heard. Therefore he made it his business to keep her mouth occupied for as much time as possible. Now, for instance, she was eating a low calorie cheesecake and Ted admired her beauty and her silence.

A touch at his shoulder made him glance up and he sighed inwardly, even though his affable smile didn't waver. "Mr Donato," he said. "What a surprise. How are you?"

Abili Donato, chairman of several important committees and now Minister of Development, looked anxiously at Ted's companion and said, "I need to speak with you about - about the matter we discussed." ( Read more... )

Coat collar turned up, Ted arrived at the coffee bar at the appointed time and looked around for his partner in - not crime exactly - more seeing an opportunity and not letting tiny inconsequential legal quibbles stand in their way.

He spotted him and waved.

French menu, American attitude.

Ted nodded approvingly. At least they shouldn't have to wait an hour for their starter.

"Want a drink?" he asked Thomas.

Hi, Thomas, bloody airline fucked up my booking. I've just landed. Will meet you for lunch at - oh God - wherever. Um - there's this French place - Cloche D'Or - of Clef D'Or. I'll see if I can get a booking. If I can't there's always Subway I suppose.

See you about one thirty.

---

Manny, Ted here. Bloody fucking airline got me in around four ay em. Long stop over at Heathrow and I haven't got half my luggage dammit. Ae you free this evening? I've got a lunch date but can meet you any time from - oh - three onwards? Lemme know huh? Leave a voicemail. I'm going to try and get a couple of hours sleep.

After changing to a black suit in the men's locker room in La Fee Verte, Thomas Avery checked his calendar, made some markings, and suddenly remembered something he was supposed to take care of.

He checked his watch and noted that he still had time before he was truly needed in the dining room. He took his phone and went outside to the secluded backyard of the restaurant. He chose Ted Fanshawe's number and dialed, hoping that the man would be on a time zone when he would be awake to pick up the phone.

Coming to the City for a Sunday morning meeting was no real problem because Ted had been in Chicago anyway. Of course it had meant flying over night to be there at the set time of eight am, and there fore no sleep, but Ted could catch up again on the long haul flight home.

The meeting had been most satisfactory. Lunch had been adequate. But the bar here had forty year old malt from a distillery in the Islands that had long ago bee subsumed by their parent company and Ted saw no reason why he shouldn't make a dent in it.

"Another for you Manny?" he asked, the bottle poised over his glass.