The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [197]
“Of course not, Minister. I am flattered by your personal concern, which makes me all the more determined to broach an embarrassing subject that has—”
“Before you say anything else, Sir Hamish, may I ask you some questions?”
“Of course, Minister.”
“Do you still find the tender price of $39,121,110 acceptable in all the circumstances?”
“Yes, Minister.”
“That amount still leaves you enough to do a worthwhile job while making a profit for your company?”
“Yes, Minister, but—”
“Excellent, then I think all you have to decide is whether you want to sign the contract by midday today.” The minister emphasized the word “midday” as clearly as he could.
Sir Hamish, who had never understood the expression “a nod is as good as a wink,” charged foolishly on.
“There is, nevertheless, one aspect of the contract I feel that I should discuss with you privately.”
“Are you sure that would be wise, Sir Hamish?”
Sir Hamish hesitated, but only for a moment, before proceeding. Had David Heath heard the conversation that had taken place so far, he would have stood up, shaken hands with the secretary of state, removed the top of his fountain pen, and headed toward the contract—but not his employer.
“Yes, Minister, I feel I must,” said Sir Hamish firmly.
“Will you kindly leave us, Miss Vieites?” said the secretary of state.
The assistant closed her shorthand book, rose, and left the room. Sir Hamish waited for the door to close before he began again.
“Yesterday I had a visit from a countryman of yours, a Mr. Victor Perez, who resides here in Mexico City and claims—”
“An excellent man,” said the minister very quietly.
Still Sir Hamish charged on. “Yes, I daresay he is, Minister, but he asked to be allowed to represent Graham Construction as our agent, and I wondered—”
“A common practice in Mexico, no more than is required by the law,” said the minister, swinging his chair round and staring out of the window.
“Yes, I appreciate that is the custom,” said Sir Hamish, now talking to the minister’s back, “but if I am to part with ten percent of the government’s money I must be convinced that such a decision meets with your personal approval.” Sir Hamish thought he had worded that rather well.
“Um,” said the secretary of state, measuring his words, “Victor Perez is a good man and has always been loyal to the Mexican cause. Perhaps he leaves an unfortunate impression sometimes, not out of what you would call the ‘top drawer,’ Sir Hamish, but then, we have no class barriers in Mexico.” The minister swung back to face Sir Hamish.
The Scottish industrialist flushed. “Of course not, Minister, but that, if you will forgive me, is hardly the point. Mr. Perez is asking me to hand over nearly four million dollars, which is over half of my estimated profit on the project, without allowing for any contingencies or mishaps that might occur later.”
“You chose the tender figure, Sir Hamish. I confess I was amused by the fact you added your date of birth to the thirty-nine million.”
Sir Hamish’s mouth opened wide.
“I would have thought,” continued the minister, “given your record over the past three years and the present situation in Britain, you were not in a position to be fussy.”
The minister gazed impassively at Sir Hamish’s startled face. Both started to speak at the same time. Sir Hamish swallowed his words.
“Allow me to tell you a little story about Victor Perez. When the war was at its fiercest” (the old Secretary of State was referring to the Mexican Revolution in the same way that an American thinks of Vietnam or a Briton of Germany when they hear the word “war”), “Victor’s father was one of the young men under my command who died on the battlefield at Celaya only a few days before victory was ours. He left a son born on the day of independence who never knew his father. I have the honor, Sir Hamish, to be godfather to that child. We christened him Victor.”
“I can understand that you