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his cost-cutting policies, and to the company as a whole, it had represented a
solid new foundation for expansion and profit. There had been talk of
'substantial' pay hikes, and the junior executives' offices had suddenly been
discreetly littered with Cadillac brochures.
'Have you talked to anyone at Sun-Taste?' Randolph asked.
They called this afternoon. Obviously they wanted to know if we were going to
have any difficulties in delivering the full quota.'
'And of course you told them there would be no difficulties at all.'
'Of course.'
'Have you tried shopping around to see if we can make up the difference by
buying from somebody else?'
Neil shook his head again. 'Whoever we go to, sir, is bound to charge us a
pretty hefty premium, quite apart from the fact that their prices are higher
than ours to begin with. I thought I'd better wait and discuss it with you.'
Randolph finished his drink, rattled the ice cubes around for a moment and
then abruptly stood up. 'Let's go take a look at that factory,' he said. 'Do
you have your car here?'
They went down in the elevator to the basement parking level. Neil adjusted
his necktie in the elevator mirror and slicked back his hair. He never once
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took his eyes off himself, even when he was talking.
'I was on the point of falling asleep when they called me this morning,' he
said, tilting his chin slightly to improve his three-quarter profile. T took
out that girl who works behind the salad bar at the Pirate's Cove.'
Tm not sure I know her,' Randolph replied. He hated stories of sexual
conquest.
'You must have seen her. Very long blonde hair, all the way down to her fanny.
Terrific body. And do you know what her name is? Can you guess what her name
is?'
32
T have no idea, really,' Randolph said. He tried to be charitable and put down
Neil's chattering to nervousness. All the same, three men had died and the
short-term future of the company was at serious risk; he didn't honestly want
to discuss Neil's latest bed partner, however devastating she was.
'Her name is Jeff, can you believe that? A girl who looks like that, called
Jeff?'
'Well, I wouldn't go out with her if I were you,' Randolph said. 'Not with a
girl with a name like that.'
'Oh, really?' frowned Neil. 'I thought it was pretty cute. Her mother called
her Jeff because she always wanted a boy.'
As the elevator arrived at the basement, Randolph said, 'There were two famous
comic-book characters, one of whom was called Jeff. You wouldn't want to be
called what the other one was called, would you? Because that's what would
happen if you dated her.'
Neil did not quite know how to take that remark. He followed Randolph
awkwardly out of the elevator and then hurried to catch up so he could show
him the way to his car. 'It's right over there, the silver MK-Seven.'
Night had fallen out on Cotton Row as Neil's car reared out of the basement
rampway and into the street, but Memphis glittered with life. They drove past
Beale Street, where W.C. Handy had made the blues famous, now renovated and
brightly alive. They drove as far as Union Street and then headed east, past
Overton Square, and took Interstate 40 towards Raleigh.
'I'm sorry,' Neil said. 'I shouldn't have said anything about Jeff. That was
bad taste.'
'Forget it,' Randolph told him, staring out at the Tennessee night and
wondering how Marmie was coping. The boys would take care of her, he was
pretty sure of that. John was fifteen now and Mark was eleven. And even though
Issa was always arguing with her mother now that she was thirteen and on the
very edge of womanhood, he knew that she was kind enough and courteous enough
to
33
make sure that the remaining days of their vacation would go well. He ached to
be back in Canada, beside Marmie, but he knew where his responsibilities lay.
Neil said, 'The fire department won't commit itself.'
'What about the police?'
'Same story. There was an explosion in the wintering plant but no particular
reason to suspect that it was caused deliberately.'
'No particular reason to suspect that it wasn't either.'
Neil glanced at him, his sharp profile illuminated green by the lights on the
dash. 'You don't really think that somebody tried to bomb us out of business?'
Randolph grasped his knee and made a face. 'Don't ask me. That just happened
to be the considered opinion of the cab driver who brought me from the
airport.'
'The cab driver?' Neil laughed. 'What would he know?'
'I don't know. Cab drivers listen and learn, don't they?'
'And this particular cab driver thought that this fire was started on
purpose?' asked Neil. The diamond ring on his right pinkie suddenly sparkled
as he turned the wheel.
'Well, who knows? In any case, he promised to keep his ears open in case he
heard any gossip from any of his fares. Apparently he picks up Brooks
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executives quite regularly.'
'And you overtipped him for that favour?'
'I guess you could say that. A hundred bucks.'
'A hundred bucks? What's the guy's name? We ought to employ him in our
accounts department.'
Randolph shrugged. 'I don't know. Stanley somebody. Wait a minute ... he said
no relation to the barbecued-ribs restaurant.'
'Vergo,' said Neil smartly.
'That's right. Stanley Vergo. And what a philosopher. His pet theory seems to
be that Elvis never died, that he was only pretending in order to avoid his
fans.'
'I've heard that theory before,' Neil said. 'Some people have the same theory
about Adolf Hitler.'
They arrived at the processing plant. The buildings and the surrounding
storage tanks covered over eighty-eight
34
acres that were surrounded by miles of chain-link fence. The driveway was
landscaped with mature magnolias blossoming like soft curds of cream, and the
offices were set in a picturesque Victorian mansion with a white-pillared
portico and fan-shaped skylights. But behind the stately facade there was one [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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