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They heard Mr. Curlin’s voice as he and the CEO approached the conference room. The CEO was mouthing platitudes as Mr. Curlin spoke over the top of him, “You’ll want to join with me on this project, Paul. If we can’t push the price up to close to a billion dollars, your people won’t have done their job properly.”
Xonra struggled not to let her jaw drop. A billion dollars! Even allowing for exaggeration, that was twice the size of any project she’d been involved in up until now. She flicked her eyes to the side. Moss’s face was, as usual on such occasions, quite blank, but he was swallowing, so she knew he was struggling to assimilate the huge number, too.
The CEO, Paul Smithers, took his seat at the head of the large, polished teak table with Jeremiah J. Curlin on his right, and the others settled themselves around the sides. Xonra made sure she was on the opposite side of the table to Mr. Curlin so she could see his face properly.
“Is it okay if we video this meeting, Jeremiah, so my people can make sure they complete all their tasks afterward?” asked Paul.
“Yes, yes, let’s just get moving on this. There’s been too much time wasted already.”
Xonra saw the CEO’s lips thin, but the tone of his voice didn’t change. “Why don’t you explain your plans to these good people then, Jeremiah, and we can start designing the project to bring everything to fulfillment.”
Mr. Curlin stood and rocked back on his heels, his hands in his suit pants pockets, and his belly suddenly looking quite a lot larger than it did when he stood straight. The benefits of an expensive tailor all wasted, thought Xonra.
“As you all know, I own Berisford Village, the five-star Berisford Grande Hotel, and the forty acres they sit on, along with the mining rights to Big Hill Mine, and all the cottage industries that operate throughout the village. It’s a tourist Mecca. I also have contracts with most of the film companies to make westerns and historical movies using my people and my buildings, my land, and my horses, for their productions. It’s a big business, ladies and gentleman. A very big business.”
Around the table, people were nodding. This was all very impressive, but it wasn’t news. Everyone in the room knew these things. It was also exaggerated. It was thirty acres, not forty, a four-star hotel, not five-star, and he had contracts with two movie production companies, not “most” of them.
“I’m not getting any younger, ladies and gentlemen. None of us is. It’s time for me to retire, so I’m going to sell it all, lock, stock and barrel. That’s where you people come in. I expect it to go to a big overseas consortium, maybe to an oil-rich Arab nation, maybe to an Asian power. They’re the folks with a billion in cash lying around, waiting to invest it. Yup. That’s the asking price. A flat one billion dollars.”
Mr. Curlin sat down again, a broad smile on his face as the CEO asked for questions. After a flurry of business, legal, and financial questions, there was silence. Xonra asked, “When you say ‘lock, stock, and barrel,’ do you mean all the people who currently work for you will be part of the sale? They’ll remain part of the village, working for the new owners?”
“Well, there’s always one or two who refuse to accept change, but the vast majority will, yes.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that, Xonra. I was wondering about the families who live in the old mine and work for no salary at all. The women and children. Will they continue to live there and not be paid? Many people would consider that to be effectively slave labor.” The CEO stared at Mr. Curlin.
“What nonsense is this, Paul? Who’s been telling you lies? Their salaries are paid into a bank account every month.”
Several tall men in gray suits stood in the doorway to the conference room. Behind them were half a dozen brawny individuals in security guard uniforms.
One of the gray-suited men spoke. “Jacob Nile, Homeland Security. Well, sir, it’s true money is paid into a bank account each month, but it appears the only person who can withdraw that money is you, yourself.”
“A misunderstanding.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m a very wealthy man. It’ll be easy to sort this little problem out. Call my attorney.”
“Unfortunately, sir, if by your attorney you mean your brother-in-law, he’s resigned. When your wife heard about your second wife and your two other children by a sixteen-year-old girl, he no longer wished to be in your employ. I believe he’s arranging divorce proceedings on behalf of your first wife, his sister.”
“Lies. She’s a slut. Those children aren’t mine.”
“Well, sir, DNA testing will sort that out. Now, if you’d mind accompanying us downtown, we’d like to talk to you about allegations of bigamy, child slavery, child endangerment, forced breakup of families, misappropriation of funds—”
Mr. Curlin didn’t wait for Jacob Nile to finish speaking. He began to argue and expostulate, so the security guards entered the room and arranged themselves around him. Finally, he agreed to leave the meeting, still arguing that it was all a mistake.
For a moment, there was total silence around the table then the vice president for Finance jumped up and said, “I must make sure accounts for everything he owes us have been sent.”
“Hell, yes, me, too,” said Moss following him out of the room.
The CEO grinned and said, “I believe the meeting is concluded. Turn off the video now, George.”
* * * *
That night, tucked tightly between her men in bed, Xonra told them about the meeting.
“It’ll likely drag through the courts for years. The man is loaded with money and plenty of attorneys will be willing to have him as a client,” warned Glenn.
“Yeah, but the families will be freed and there’ll likely be a class action to recover what they’re owed. I bet the workers at the village will get a decent pay raise, too,” said Morgan.
“Then there’s his first wife, who’ll be out for his blood, and her brother, the attorney, will know a lot of his secrets,” add Xonra.
“All in all, a satisfactory outcome,” said Morgan.
