“What did they say?” Katharine asks.
“They say I screwed up with this guy called Raymond Mackenzie. He went to the Caspian for us, he’s one of our top oil traders. I was supposed to do background for him, get logistical information about pipelines out there, how their refineries are set up, that kind of stuff.”
“Yes,” says Fortner slowly.
“I got hold of maps, spoke to a bunch of geologists, it was a normal job. And I did it well, you know?”
“Sure,” he says.
“There are so many things that I could have slipped up on but didn’t. I got the size of the export jetties-that took three days to discover-I got watertight information about pipelines that he was able to work with. But Mackenzie gets out there and he’s ready to finalize a deal with the Turkmenbashi refinery when it turns out that the oil is going to be too sulfurous for them to handle. So it’s looking like we’re going to have to recommend spending a hundred and fifty million dollars on a brand-new distillate hydro treating unit to strip out the sulfur at the refinery.”
“Surely that’s not your responsibility,” says Katharine. “Surely they would have found something like that out long ago?”
“Well, they didn’t,” I snap, though she does not look offended. “I was supposed to check it out, but it never crossed my mind. And now we have all this oil, an expectant market, and no way to fucking refine it and get it out to them.”
“There’s gotta be another refinery.”
“That’s what I’ve been working on. I’m trying the one in Baku. But the shit still hit the fan. Murray went fucking crazy.”
“Guy’s a chump,” says Fortner. “Class-A dickhead.”
Katharine looks upset.
“I can’t believe this,” she says. “After all you’ve done for them. I think it’s despicable the way you’re being treated.”
To which Fortner adds, “You must be mad as hell,” getting up from his chair to put some classical music on. The volume is louder than it needs to be. “Alan Murray is lucky to have a guy like you on board. Period.”
“Well, I must be doing something wrong.”
“No,” Katharine says sharply. “I don’t think so at all. In fact, quite the contrary. This is about personalities, it’s not about the job. Obviously there are people within your organization who feel threatened by you.”
Obviously.
“I’ve seen it a thousand times,” says Fortner, now moving to the window and closing the curtains. “A thousand times.”
“What do you think I should do?”
For once, the immediacy of their answers stalls. Fortner glances over at his wife and, only when a few seconds have passed, says, “We’ll come to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been thinking, and we have a few ideas as to how we might help you.”
“I don’t understand.”
My pulse starts to thump. It’s coming.
“Before we get to that, there’s something I’d like to say.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Fortner moves away from the window, pacing to the kitchen door and then back to the drawn curtains. At times he is talking behind me. The anxiety he was showing when I first arrived has receded completely.
“There’s a pattern of behavior here, Alec. Do you see it?”
Katharine is nodding confidently, as if she already knows what he’s going to say.
“What pattern? Does this have something to do with what you were saying about ideas to help me?”
Don’t rush them.
“You remember that conversation we had a while back about your interviews with MI6? Do you remember that?”
He’s behind me now. Only Katharine can see the distinct characteristics of his face.
“Of course, yes.”
“Well, it was my view then, and it still is, that if the British government could afford to throw away someone of your potential, then it’s either in much better shape than anyone thinks, or it’s just plain dumb. Now…”
He moves back to the bay window, turning to face me.
“Abnex appears to be doing the same thing. I get a sense that both of these organizations are overawed by you. You may think of that as an overstatement, but let me explain.” He touches his tie, loosening it. “It seems to us that Abnex doesn’t really know how to get the best out of you. It’s almost as if they can’t deal with an employee who shows a little flair or versatility. Now, I’m not blind, Alec. We both know that you can step out of line occasionally. But only-and this is crucial-only ever in the interests of the company.”
“I’m just sick of being underestimated,” I tell him, skirting the compliment. “I’m sick of being ignored and treated as a second-class citizen. I’m sick of knockbacks and failure.”
“You haven’t failed,” says Katharine, interjecting. “Not at all. You’re just in a very unfortunate situation.”
As she says this, Fortner walks back behind his armchair with the deliberation of an actor hitting a mark.
Katharine says, “Alec, this isn’t the first time that you’ve been upset, is it?”
“About Abnex? No.”
“And your financial situation hasn’t improved since you started there?”
I glance over at Fortner and there is a look of rocklike concentration on his face. His eyes are fixed on mine. The rest of the room has become invisible to me. It’s just the three of us, closing in on something unimaginable.
“No. Why?”
Katharine does not answer. There is no knowing why she asked that question, other than to remind me that I am being badly paid. A little subconscious hook.
“You want another drink?”
I almost jump when Fortner says this, and he smiles warmly, taking my glass from the table. From my position low down on the sofa, he looks suddenly vast and strong.
“Sure, that would be great. You having something?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna open a bottle of wine.”
“That’d be nice, honey,” says Katharine, very mellow. It’s as if they have both gone into a trance.
With Fortner out of the room, Katharine asks, “Do you still believe that Abnex is unprincipled in some of its activities?”
“When did I say I believed that?”
“So you don’t?”
There’s no noise at all coming from the kitchen. Fortner is listening.
“No, as a matter of fact I still do. Yes.”
“How do you feel about that? About unprincipled behavior?”
“What, generally?”
“Yes.”
“Kathy, it completely depends…”
“Of course…”
A cork pops in the kitchen.
“On the circumstances.”
“Right.”
“But I do think that a lot of the stuff that we’re getting involved in now will be detrimental to the company, not necessarily in the short term, but in ten to fifteen years’ time. That’s why I have a problem with it. It’s not the dishonesty that annoys me, so much as the stupidity of it.”
“What are they paying you, exactly?” Fortner asks, coming back into the sitting room with a bottle of good red wine and three upside-down glasses threaded through the fingers of his right hand.
