THE DEALMAKER

There was something very inauthentic about the Pearl. Maybe it was the screens on the windows to keep out the mosquitoes, maybe the ceiling fans to deal with the tropical heat, maybe the photo of the black president of Kenya hanging on the wall, right next to a floor-to-ceiling painting of an Arab caravan transporting a cargo of black slaves to the Coast in the 19^th century. The Pearl was a relic of a world that no longer existed, uprooted from its world and dropped into a 21^st century Kenya, where it no longer made sense. It was in denial about the fact that the world had changed.

We didn’t care though. All that mattered to us was that it was nearly empty, and the staff were discreet. That made it the perfect fit for the meeting that we were about to have, or so we’d reasoned..

“How does it feel to be on your first assignment?” Jack asked. He was sitting next to me, this nondescript, bespectacled man in a black, three piece suit, another relic from an era long ended. “You know, on my first assignment with my mentor, we sat together in a restaurant a lot like this one in Casablanca. It’s funny how everything comes round in the end, isn’t it?”

I nodded to my mentor, and signaled to the waiter. We were sitting at the far end of the restaurant, next to a wall that had a painting of a broad, tree-lined avenue. The table was square, with three chairs. I was sitting facing the wall, with my back to the rest of the restaurant. Jack was sitting facing the counter. He would be able to see anyone who came in through the corner of his eye, without turning his head.

“I don’t think we picked the right place,” I said, after the waiter had taken my order, a cup of warm water with a slice of lemon in it.

Jack shrugged. “Well, the Governor will be here in fifteen minutes. Even if we didn’t pick the right place, there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it now.”

“I think it might derail our meeting.”

“Well, if you understood its objective well enough you wouldn’t be worried about that.” Jack said, in the patient tone of a teacher instructing a truly blockheaded student.

I bit back the sharp reply that was right there on the tip of my tongue. I understood the mission well enough. When the Governor arrived, we would buy him dinner, make conversation, laugh at his jokes, the usual dance and then some. The only thing that mattered was getting him to agree to our terms. If he took the contract at face value and agreed to it, well and good. But if he scratched through the thin veneer of gold to the finely polished layer of crap underneath, then London didn’t care whether we offered him a house in Dubai or a new Lamborghini. All that mattered was getting him to agree, in writing, and with the recording of the conversation, just to be sure.

“No, Jack, this is important. I think this could actually undermine our whole meeting with him.”

“Well if it were that important, why didn’t you mention it sooner? The Governor will be here any minute now.”

“Because I only just realized it,” I replied.

“Alright, what is it? Let’s hear it.”

“Have you read the Governor’s file?”

Jack sighed, exasperated by my question. Yes, it was slightly insulting to be asked that by his pupil, but I realized it too late, and the damage was already done. “Of course.”

“Did anything in particular strike you about him?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” Jack responded, “I suppose one or two things did. He’s pretty young, for a Kenyan governor. That isn’t saying much, though, since they’re damn near all senile. Grew up extremely poor, but managed to scrape together a decent education. He always wanted to be a politician. He’s Chelsea fan. Listen, the only thing we need to know about him is that he’s dirty as a farm boy’s knickers, which means he has a price. We might not know what it is yet, but it’s there, and we can find it.”

“He’s a nationalist,” I said.

“Listen, Andrew, I’ve been doing this job for twenty years, and in that time I’ve spoken to somewhere north of one hundred high ranking politicians from across the whole bloody continent. Every damn one of them had ‘holds nationalist leanings’ somewhere in their file, but every damn one of them sold out sooner or later.”

”But this time it’s different, Jack. He’s different. His political ideologies run more than skin deep. He’s held them for too long, and he’s gone through too much because of them. When he was a student leader at the university, he even spent some time at Kamiti, Kenya’s version of Guantanamo, because of them. They aren’t the sort of thing that he can just turn on and off at will, just because someone has put a big sack of money in front him. He’s a true nationalist, through and through.”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, “All that is true, but how does any of that mean that this is the wrong place?”

“Look around you, Jack. There’s something very unnatural, very inauthentic about this place. It looks like home!”

Jack looked around, really looked around, for the first time. He saw what I’d seen, of course. Once it was pointed out to him, there was no way he could miss it. And, even though he said nothing, I could feel the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to think of a solution, another venue, something we could do about the ambiance, anything. Only a fool would have bet against him finding one, if he had enough time. He was as close to a legend as our shadowy business ever produced. They even had a nickname for him back at the office. The Dealmaker.

“You’re right,” Jack said, “You’re absolutely right. But I don’t think we can_ Damn! He’s here.”

I fought the urge to turn around and look at our eagerly awaited guest. I’d had seen dozens of photos of the Governor over the past few weeks, from an old class photo taken by a Red Cross volunteer when he was a stick-thin, shoeless five year old laughing as he ran through the muck of the slum her grew up in, to one taken only a few days earlier as he walked to his office. I also knew that they couldn’t replace the warmth and firmness of a handshake, the smell of his breath and the twinkle in his eye. So we waited as the sound of the Governor’s shoes hitting the ceramic floor drew closer, and finally he appeared in view.

Like King Saul of the Bible, he stood a head taller than everyone else in the room. I could feel a sort of presence that emanated from him, even as he stood there, doing nothing more than stretching out his hand in greeting. It was like the force of a magnet, drawing the people around to him, making him instantly likeable and trustworthy. It was more than just charisma; there was an almost supernatural quality to it, like he had taken a trip into the depths of Transylvania and purchased a potion that made him irresistible to all.

We shook hands and spent the socially acceptable minute or two discussing the weather, but since this was Kenya, and it was always some shade of warm, there really wasn’t much to discuss. Then we all sat down. Jack and I sat where we’d been before, while the Governor took the seat facing the window. They were gorgeous arched windows, that peered outside into to a world lit by a lone street light, with a shambling beggar as its only inhabitant.

“Shall we get to business, then?” Jack began, taking out his laptop and opening it on the table, “As I’m sure your office informed you, sir, my associate and I are here as representatives of the CDC group, the face of British developmental finance in Africa. Our organization has been looking to develop an industrial park in the Eastleigh area of Nairobi for some time. Did you get a chance to read the briefing that we sent you? If you’re already familiar with it, everything will go a lot smoother.”

“I read your briefing,” The Governor replied, his face neutral.

“Splendid. So no need to go into any detail about the proposal itself, then. There’s only one thing I would like to highlight. We’re well aware of the situation you and your administration find yourselves in. The real unemployment rate in that region of the county is hovering somewhere near thirty percent, and terrorism is posing a serious threat to the stability of the nation. This industrial park will provide jobs both directly and indirectly. You’ve read the briefing, you’ve seen the projections. It would be a game-changer for the entire region for generations to come.”

Jack finished his speech. It hadn’t gone quite as expected.  The Governor continued to look at us, his face a perfectly neutral mask, not betraying the slightest hint of emotion.

“So, I guess that means we can get right to the signing?” Jack said.

“Not yet,” the Governor said, “There are a few things from your proposal that weren’t too clear.”

Jack seemed relieved to hear that. Just a few small doubts to squelch and the deal could be signed. “Yes, yes, of course, feel free to ask all the questions that you have.”

“Firstly, what is the exact nature of the industries that will be coming?”

“It’s hard to know with certainty at this stage,” Jack responded, “But it would definitely be heavy industry. Something very energy intensive employing a large number of people. Once the agreement is signed, we’ll be able to advertise, and then we’ll know the specific companies that are coming.”

“Wouldn’t it be a mistake, then, to sign a binding agreement this early on, before we know who’s coming?”

“O, there’s nothing binding about the agreement we’re signing today,” Jack said, with an endearing smile, “Think of it as getting engaged. You’re promising to marry us in a short while, but if you happen to find us in bed with another girl, the whole thing’s off, no judge or jury required.”

“Are you sure of that?” The Governor asked.

It was a piercing question.  “Yes, we’re sure. In fact, I helped draft the agreement myself,”  I said.

“Yes, as my colleague has just assured you, we’re well aware of the contents of the deal we’re trying to make. So, now that that’s been sorted, would you like to_”

“Just a few more questions and I’ll be satisfied,” the Governor said, “First and foremost, who are you?”

It was a lightning bolt out of a clear sky, but Jack was unfazed.

“I beg your pardon,” Jack responded.

“You heard the question.”

“Sir, I believe you have all the relevant biographical information about us in the briefing we sent you.”

“I’d like to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Jack smiled the embarrassed smile that every good salesman has in store for when they have to tell a customer that ignorance doesn’t look good on them. “Alright, my name is Arthur Jackson Carlisle, fifty four years old. I went to Leeds University, then worked in the City for a decade making half a million pounds a year, but then I woke up one day feeling like I wanted my life to mean more than a Ferrari and holidays in Monte Carlo. I’m sure you’ve heard the story a thousand times before. Now I work for the CDC group, trying to use the free market to make the world a better place each day.”

“Yes, that’s definitely a wonderful story. Very inspiring,” the Governor said, after a moment.

“I suppose we can get to the signing, now,” Jack continued.

“I’m not done with my questions,” the Governor replied, and Jack’s smile finally faltered. ”What is the exact nature of the industries that will be built on our land?”

“We already told you, it’s impossible to tell.”

“So you haven’t heard if there’s a waste treatment plant being considered as part of the plan?”

“Yes, well, now that it’s been mentioned, I suppose there’s no point in trying to keep it private any longer. Yes, a plant to recycle electronic waste from some European countries has been floated, and yes a Hungarian company has approached us, asking to be included in the project. We signed a non-disclosure agreement, which is why I couldn’t mention them earlier on.”

“What kind of wastes are we talking about?”

“I already told you, electronic wastes.”

“And what kind might that be?”

I was starting to get worried. This was slowly getting out of hand.

Jack gave a look of exasperation as he responded, “Well, sir, I hope you have a good reason for this inquisition. Electronic waste is exactly what it sounds like: broken calculators, old computer motherboards, micro-waves, televisions, etc.”

“So, nothing radioactive?”

“Of course not, sir. There are dozens of international regulations that prohibit that sort of trade.”

“So, the three thousand tons of spent uranium fuel rods that are on the MV Sofia from Bulgaria aren’t coming to Nairobi?” the Governor asked.

The dam was almost breached.

“Sir, I honestly have no idea where you could possibly have gotten that kind of information. It’s absolutely wrong. My organization does not engage in the international transport of nuclear waste, it’s as simple as that.”

“Who are you?” the Governor asked again.

“I’ve already told you, I am Jackson Carlisle of the CDC group!”

“Not Jackson Carlisle, economic hit man.”

No, of course Jack and I never referred to ourselves as economic hit men. We didn’t even use the acronym EHM anymore, not since the eighties when one particularly scandalous book came out. It was nonetheless the perfect — and perhaps only — summary of what we did. The fact that the Governor knew it could only mean one thing. The game was up. The curtain had been breached and the Holy of Holies revealed.

“I don’t think there’s any point in either of us keeping up this charade any longer,” Jack said, as he summoned the waiter and ordered us all flat whites, “You’re clearly better informed than we were expecting you to be. Bravo to you. That bit about the MV Sofia is especially juicy. Not many people know what’s on that ship, or where it’s headed. May I ask how you managed to obtain the information?”

“No,” the Governor replied.

“Fair enough,” Jack responded, “I wouldn’t tell either if I were in your shoes, to be honest. Alright, then, let’s get straight to the point. You know by now what we want. You must have realized that we want it fairly badly, seeing as we’ve gone through all this trouble. On the other hand, we are aware that you also have certain acute needs. The election is just around the corner, and campaigning can be quite expensive.” Then he paused. He coffee had arrived, and he took a moment to add sugar, take a sip from his cup and smack his lips appreciatively, “Damn good coffee, this. Now where was I? O, yes. Maybe we can find some way to accommodate each other?”

The Governor said nothing, so Jack was left to sip his coffee for one long, awkward moment.

“We can help you,” I said.

“Help?” the Governor asked.

“Yes,” I continued, a bit sheepishly, “We know it costs somewhere north of ten million pounds to run for governor in this county. We may be able to help you with that.”

“Are you saying you would give me the money for my campaign?”

“What my colleague is saying,” Jack interjected, with a stern look at me, “Is that this evening can end well for the both of us. All we need is for you, as the Governor of Nairobi, to sign this little piece of paper.”

The Governor paused and took a long sip of his coffee. Both of us watched him intently while feigning total disinterest. This man, this product of crushing poverty, education and democracy held the fate of the entire deal in his hands.

“I’m going to be as clear as I can possibly be,” the Governor began, in a slow, deliberate way, “No amount of money is enough to convince me to let you dump your shit on our heads.”

I was stunned into silence by the Governor’s reply, but Jack, after a moment of surprise, started laughing. It started as a giggle, then a quiet laugh, then finally a full blown guffaw that would have attracted the attention of everyone else in the restaurant, if there had been anyone else there. Then he turned to me as if the Governor wasn’t even in the room and said, “Damn! I should have listened to you. Nationalist to the core, you said. Damn, I should have listened.”

Then Jack turned to the Governor with a smile. This one was different, though. All the others had been warm, good-natured, neighbourly. This one was the smile of a crocodile.

“Since we’ve never met before, sir, I know I’ve never had the opportunity to tell you what a lovely wife you have. Really Victoria — that is her name right? — is an absolute angel. Did I ever show you the photos of her from the KSPCA dinner, Drew. Absolutely gorgeous. If I had a wife like that, I wouldn’t be flying around the continent holding business meetings with middle aged men with pot bellies, I can tell you that for sure.”

“What is this?” the Govenor asked, his voice carrying a bit of emotion for the first time in the evening.

“And your two boys. Damn! You must be so proud of them, especially the way they balance each other out. You have Benjamin, the bookworm, always top of his class, and then Timothy, the athlete, the alpha male. I remember watching him play for his school rugby team a few weeks ago. He scored, I think three tries, and_”

The Governor stood up, grabbed Jack by his shirt and lifted him off his seat.

“What is this? What are you trying to tell me?” he shouted.

Jack replied calmly, “Accidents happen, Sir. Cars crash. Fuel tanks explode. People fall down the stairs or get hit by those death-trap motorcycle taxis you people have. There are heart-attacks, strokes and a thousand other ways to die.”

“Is this a threat?”

“What do you think?” Jack replied.

The Govenor put him back down, and remained standing. “I won’t sign this deal, Mr. Carlisle,” he said, “I won’t do it for money, and I won’t do it if you threaten my family. Now, I’d advise you to get the hell out of my country, or else you‘ll be hearing from me again very soon.”

As soon as the Governor walked out, Jack summoned the waiter, who picked up our cups, but curiously left the Governor’s on the table.

“Do you think he’ll change his mind?” I asked.

“No,” Jack replied, “I should have asked your opinion of him sooner. He bleeds love for his country, and he wants to protect it from money grubbing hands like ours. Can’t imagine why, though. The only thing left for us to steal in this damn place is the sunshine.”

“So what are we going to do?” I asked.

“Drew, in this job you only really meet two kinds of people that matter. There are the ones you reward and the ones you remove. I had him marked for removal the moment he asked me about the MV Sofia. Everything after that was for your benefit. I wanted you to see firsthand how we handle difficult cases.”

I turned away at the troubling words to look out the window. It was so peaceful there, under the lone streetlight. The beggar was gone replaced by a young couple kissing passionately by the wall, and the lone figure of the Governor, marching angrily.

“So you are going to remove him?” I asked, still watching his furious walk.

“I already have,” Jack replied, and I turned to look at him. He was holding the coffee cup in a gloved hand, and in the other he held open a clear plastic bag. I looked anxiously out the window to see if the Governor was still walking down the street. All I could see was a crumpled heap in the distance.

“Stick with me, mate, and you will learn lots more,” Jack said, as he sealed the plastic bag and put it away. “It’s not for nothing they call me the Dealmaker.”