Pieter nodded: “yes, and I recall that we left the diner table, quarrelling, followed by a brotherly attempt to solve all the problems of the world in the bar of the hotel.”
“A fine memory, that is for sure,” Ian agreed, “only the headache the next day was not that pretty.”
Pieter went to the edge of the window and looked over the white roofs of the new buildings. “So you made it Ian, congratulations I assume. But it is not very clear to me why I got involved. To my knowledge I do not possess any special or unique skill set that we discussed at that time. And don't tell me that everyone is special and unique. That would be cheesy.”
“Probably not. You are rather common in many ways. Which does not hold any value judgement, you know that,” he hesitated before he continued.
“You probably remember your articles, or your series of articles that you wrote following our discussions. You made it into a case of honour to dig into the project, to x-ray the financing part, to comment on how unfair millions of development aid funds were channelled to this one project while others were craving for some money. I realized that you had nothing against me personally, that it was supposed to by your break-through article. So you had everything aligned. A hedonistic billionaire, well connected to the highest instances, who wanted to replay Utopia on his own. And what was the result?”
“A three part documentary that was programmed on different national stations,“ Pieter defended.
“Right, my good man. A three part documentary. Of which part one and two were programmed during the night transmissions and the third part hardly made it. But if you search long enough, than you will still find all three episodes on some dodgy conspiracy website. A site with not too many hits. Even YouTube at the time did no longer store it in their archives.”
“And the public investigation on the spending of funds?” Pieter was not planning to give up so easily.
“Oh yes, if I am not mistaken the case was postponed and then quickly dropped. Of course there was a committee of inquiry at European level. One that did not even come to formation let alone a first session. At that moment there were elections and you know what happens with a parliament when their jobs are at stake.”
Ian joined Pieter. “But don't worry. I had more than sufficient influence on European commissions to ensure the investigation would be vertically classified. But I am grateful for what you did. And that for not less than three reasons. First it confirmed my experience that the harder you want to bring something into the open, the faster is blows away. At one moment it was the leading article in some on-line news sites. It did not even make it on the front page of the printed editions. And the next day fish was packed in it. Pushed aside for another disaster, a scandal in Italy or a brutal murder in South Africa. The public is only interested in Eros and Tantalus, love and grief. Page three girl and tsunami. Not to forget sports. Bread and games.”
Ian paused to organise his thoughts. “Secondly, your research was very thorough and revealed some weak points in my plan. You helped me by being critical and sarcastic, to fine-tune what I was doing. Since you had no ties with me, you were not hindered by any form of self censorship. You held a mirror in front of me.”
“Interesting, makes me feel good to be your fool. And thirdly?”
“That's even the most important reason. Once your investigations had provided me sufficient insights to give the green light to the project it was time for you to move on. We ensured that your career would have to take a new turn and started to press charges against your editor, the press agency and the publishers. Our lawyers came into action, sent a letter to your manager who could only but capitulate. It provided me the chance to put you where I wanted you to be. Move to the Indian Ocean to act as the correspondent on no-fish treaties. This was an old project; I think from two thousand ten, that I brought back on the surface. As if someone was really interested. No, I needed someone at the right place who could help me at the right time. And that is exactly what you did the past couple of days by smuggling military secrets out of Diego Garcia's super computer.”
“I was already impressed by the fact that you received my mail so quickly even when I did not send it to you.”
“That was simple. We have quite good contacts with the news agencies. Our communication department had it intercepted quite quickly. And of course there was Alex, one of our corporate pilots who volunteered eagerly to live and work on the resort with his partner Brigitte. Since you used his computer, it was fairly easy to forward it to me directly. That helped. From Jonathan I knew you had the files so it was just a matter of waiting.”
“And what has that to do with this so-called development project? Knowing you there must be a connection.”
“Directly, very little. Indirectly, a lot. We will be able to judge clearly the coming days and weeks.”
There was a knock on the door and Iveta entered, followed by Karum.
Ian apologized and shook Pieter's hand: “I am sorry but as you can see I still have work to do. I suggest that we meet again tomorrow morning for breakfast? I assume you are not the early bird that I am. So eight o'clock?”
In the corridor outside Ian's room he hesitated, indecisive what to do. The fatigue had disappeared completely and he would not be able to sleep. Pieter decided to pop by the bar of the hotel. He needed a drink to knock him asleep. He examined the small room card key that Karum had given him. His room was on the fifth floor also.
“Looks like I am Ian's VIP after all,” he mused.
With springy steps Pieter descended from the stairs arriving at the bar. There were only a few late visitors and the bartender looked at his watch when he saw Pieter entering. It reminded him that it must already be well after midnight. He ordered a local beer that the bartender professionally drew from a tap, finishing with a perfect foam collar.
He thought: “Ian is right. You need a mix of different skills. A good bartender is one of those crucial skill sets.”
Pieter enjoyed his first sip and tasted critically the beer.
“Not bad,” he said to the man who had started to clean some glasses after he had given Pieter a small bowl of fresh peanuts.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I am originally from Belgium. We have over three hundred sixty types of beer.”
The man obviously wanted to lock up for the night and go home. The last thing he needed was a sticker getting drunk telling about his life in Belgium. He started to close some cabinets and said good night to the people who stood up to make their way to their rooms. Pieter was the only one left.
He decided not to make the bartender's life more miserable than needed. He finished his drink and with a “goodnight to you too” he turned around only to bump into Jane. He was shocked, looking at the bruises on her face and tears in her eyes. “Wow, Jane, what ...”
But without hesitation she put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly but resolutely on his lips.