“Okay, you win,” he said. “The fact is that the company president and veep, who, as you know, are huge UpLink supporters, met a few days ago and came up with this idea for an event that would celebrate our new relationship. Working on the supposition the deal gets signed and sealed, needless to say, they put in a conference call about their idea to Hugh Bennett—”
“The chairman of Sedco’s board?”
“Right, King Hughie, the board chairman, who is also prepared to advise we move ahead with the fiberoptic system install. And
“They want press coverage, photo ops,” Gordian said. “Understandable.”
Parker gave a nod.
“Sedco’s got terrific competition for offshore oil prospecting licenses in West Africa,” he said. “Some of the industry biggies involved in the bidding are Exxon, Chevron, Texaco, Elf Aquitain. There are state-owned companies — Petroleos Brasileiros out of Brazil, as a for-instance — and their subsidiaries. They’ve been leasing huge, contiguous blocks of deepwater acreage all down the equatorial coast from Nigeria to Angola. Some of these sites are what geologists call elephants… expected to yield upwards of a billion barrels of petroleum. Two blocks found by Texaco in the Agbami Basin — that’s off Angola — are geared to produce a hundred fifty thousand barrels a day before this year’s over, and might very well double that output when their operations are in full swing. To stay in the game, Sedco needs to raise its stock market profile. A headline-making affiliation with UpLink would accomplish that in a snap. Help us work with the U.S. Department of Energy to secure underwriting loans from OPIC.”
Gordian thought a moment. The Overseas Private Investment Corporation’s political risk insurance to American companies making investments in emerging nations couldn’t be undervalued.
“And if it motivates African governments that want in on our fiber ring to give Sedco’s bids and development proposals added consideration—”
“Then all the more reason for King Hughie to feel enthusiastic… and to do everything he can to make sure his enthusiasm becomes contagious with his boardroom colleagues,” Parker said.
Gordian drank the rest of his water with a twist.
“I gather Bennett would appreciate my attendance at this festive pageant of chief executives,” he said.
“I’d go so far as to say he’s going to hint at how
Gordian lowered his glass. “Any inkling where the festivities would take place?”
Parker looked at him.
“In Gabon,” he said. “On one of our wellhead platforms.”
Gordian stared at him across the table.
“Who’s turn is it to pay for our lunch today?” he said.
“Yours,” Parker said.
“Right answer,” Gordian said. “Now let’s hear who’s actually picking up the tab.”
“Guess I am.”
“And who’s going to pay the next
Parker expelled a breath.
“Ah, me again, I guess.”
Gordian nodded once.
“Shall we call it an afternoon?” he said.
Parker looked around for the waiter, made a scribbling gesture in the air to indicate he wanted the check.
“You know, Gord,” he said. “I would genuinely like my conscience to go
Pescadero, California. Nine o’clock in the morning. Felicitous sunshine greeted Julia Gordian as she left the house for her morning jog, setting off honey gold highlights in the blond streak she’d Clairoled into her dark brown hair. The streak was new, as was her retro sixties’ shag, and she thought the combination made for a pretty spiffy look. It had occurred to her that the streak would bug her father when he saw it for the first time next week, which was unquestionably part of the kick. Immature, yeah, sure. But Julia had been bugging him on a constant basis since she hit puberty lo those many years gone by, and at thirty-two years old, an independent woman, figured she could do so however she wanted without hearing about it. Besides, Dad was at his most adorable when he overcompensated, tripped all over himself trying not to
Julia could hardly wait until she unveiled her shoulder tattoo, a discreet little Japanese kanji symbol that meant “freedom.”
Accompanying her today, as every day, were her two rescued greyhounds — Jack, a brindle guy, and Jill, a teal blue gal. Julia did her stretching routine in her thickly hedge-rimmed lawn while the greys did their business out back. Then she hooked them onto a retractable leash with a two-dog attachment and started out onto the sidewalk, turning left toward the corner of her residential block.
A Subaru Outback drove by, heading in the same direction, slowing imperceptibly as it passed her.
This brilliant A.M. Julia had on black body-hugging athletic shorts, a black sports bra, a waistpack water bottle, Nikes, and a lightweight white pullover top to foil the early chill and neighborhood oglers… particularly Doug, the house dad across the street, who always seemed to be coming out to fetch his newspaper from the doorstep when she trotted past.
And here he was now, right on the mark. Just once, Julia thought, you’d think he’d be changing a diaper or giving the kid a warm bottle.
She ignored him as usual and concentrated on working into a rhythm. The less fretful of the two dogs, and the smoother runner, Jill trotted right along at her side, eager to bask in the gushy praise she would receive for keeping a cooperative pace. Meanwhile Jack was cantering a little ahead of them to show his alpha-ness — and inevitably run himself into a tangle around a tree after getting spooked by the fluttering shadows of its leaves… or, worse yet, buzzed by a winged insect, the most fearsome of all God’s creatures from his neurotic perspective.
Julia got to the end of her block and hung left on Trevor Avenue, which by no coincidence happened to be where her favorite pastry shop was located, its hot cinnamon-raisin muffins beckoning from their giant display basket in the storefront about a third of a mile farther along her route.
Paused at a stoplight on the corner of Trevor, the Outback’s driver waited for the signal to turn green, then made the same left as Julia. His digicam ready, a man in the front passenger seat raised it to his window and snapped off a second rapid series of shots as the vehicle reached her.
The vehicle passed Julia again and drove off down the avenue.
Another would pick up her movements later on.
Jean Jacques Assele-Ndaki was one of 35 highly ranked Gabonese officials to find a copy of the photograph in his mail. Of those men, 16, including Assele-Ndaki himself, sat in the parliament’s 120-member lower chamber, or National Assembly. Another 6 held seats in the Senate, its 90-member upper chamber; 4 were secretaries in the presidential cabinet; 4 headed important government agencies. The remaining 5 recipients were
In each case, the photo was enclosed in a plain manila envelope and neatly taped between two rectangular pieces of cardboard to protect it from damage in shipping. Adhesive labels on the envelope’s lower left- and right- hand corners read
The ghastly picture of Macie Nze was a clear enough communication without one.
Although an inspection of their coded postmarks would reveal they were deposited at Libreville’s main postal
