82 Desire

thought you’d like to see it, that’s all.” He brought out a map of the northernmost part of Ray’s land, superimposed over a subsurface map, a “structure map” presumably made from the data in the profile. “See what we got here? The beginnings of a great big oil field. It starts on our land—but it looks like you got most of it. See, the equipment doesn’t have to be above oil-bearing sand to predict that it’s there. By shooting on one tract, you can extrapolate what’s under another.”
    Ray was cool as a pool. “Well, it’s mighty good-hearted of my alma mater to let me know about all this.”
    Fortier grinned. Sometimes he did seem to have the sense God gave a bunny rabbit. “Oh, not at all. Not a bit. We still want to buy your company.”
    “I told you—it’s not for sale.”
    “Now, Ray, be sensible. Why don’t you think about it awhile and then we’ll talk about it?”
    “There’s nothing to talk about.”
    Ray could just see him grin and lean back in his chair. “Oh, I bet I could get you interested. I just bet I could. We’re prepared to double our offer. Double it—did you hear that? And keep you on to run the company at three-fifty a year. Does that do anything for you?”
    Ray wasn’t at the time making anything like three-fifty a year and Fortier must have known it.
    Ray asked, “Why don’t I just drill it myself?”
    “You know how risky drilling is. It usually takes several tries to find a profitable well. Can you really afford that?”
    “Well, I really appreciate your willingness to help out an old employee. I think that’s mighty generous of you. But why do I get the feeling it’s not going to work to my advantage?”
    “Ray, be reasonable. How could three-fifty a year, plus a healthy profit on the company, fail to work to your advantage?”
    Because you people are not stupid, you are merely ruthless. If you’re willing to pay that much, it means there’s a lot more money to be made.
    That was his first thought, but it wasn’t that that destroyed him. It was his pride. “Russell, I appreciate it, but I’ve built this company. I’ve got a lot at stake here.”
    “Look, Ray. Don’t be too hasty. Just think on it. Will you promise me that? Just that one little thing.” Ray could hear the desperation in his voice. He must be due a hefty bonus if he landed this one.
    There was no reason Ray couldn’t drill the well—or wells—himself. Actually, Fortier was right—it was exciting news.
    Think of the expense, Fortier had said. Ray was thinking of it. He would have to borrow the money, but he could. He could get it from Cille.
    In truth, the company wasn’t doing as well as it should have been—had been producing less and less in the last couple of years. It would cease to be profitable soon, and United had to know that. Ray knew it, too—he just hadn’t faced it.
    Eventually, he would have had to borrow money from Cille to acquire his own seismic data, hoping against hope for results good enough to get new investors. But as it turned out, he didn’t have to.
    Russell said again, “Look, I really need you to think about it.” He stood. “It’s a ways back to New Orleans. Do you mind—”
    “Bathroom’s down the hall and to your right.”
    “I—uh—well, is there any place I could make a phone call?”
    Ray showed him an empty office and went back to his own. The map and the seismic data were still on his desk, just waiting to be photocopied. Ray had qualms about it, sure, but he thought if Fortier was that careless, he must be pretty confident Ray couldn’t afford to drill on his own. And other rationalizations; at the time, he lay awake thinking of them. Never once did it occur to him that the whole thing was a setup.
    One of the many things he realized when it all shook down was that Fortier had called him from his car—if he had his cell phone, why did he need to make a call from the Hyacinth offices? He thought of that years later—literally years.
    He took the photocopied profile and structure map to a geologist, who seemed mightily impressed. “Put it this way,” the scientist said, “if it were me, I’d drill.”
    Ray drilled. Repeatedly. And failed to find oil.
    He could still have gone on as he was, but for the law. Since he’d found no new production and his producing wells were running out, in a few years’ time his lease was no longer producing in paying quantities—which meant that it terminated.
    And none other than