Black Diamond

geothermal heating, full insulation, carbon neutral—all the fashionable bells and whistles.”
    “Then you’d probably get your permit,” Bruno replied, “along with a corruption scandal in the press that will say you have a deal that could make you rich, and he’s your heir. At that point, the rest of the council would turn very hostile very fast. There’s already some grumbling in town about the tax breaks you’re getting for opening a new sawmill in St. Félix after you closed ours.”
    “That’s exactly what I told him. What would make it work would be the subsidies we could get for a project like that,” said the baron. “But the moment you apply for public funds, there’d be trouble. That’s why I told Pons that he should sell the land to me.”
    “Even then you could have trouble,” Bruno said. “Industrial land that’s going to be rezoned for housing needs an environmental damage survey. Those cost a lot, and a cleanup can cost even more. And no mayor could get around that regulation, even if he wanted to.”
    “You wait till the elections, Bruno,” grunted Pons. “Then you’ll see what mayors can and can’t do.”
    “Since you raise the topic, why in hell are you running when you know you’ll just take votes from the mayor and probably make your son the winner?” the baron asked.
    “What makes you say that? I’m going to win, not my damned son and not that wimp Mangin, who spends all his time trying to appease the Reds and the Greens and doesn’t really know which side he’s on.”
    “You haven’t got a chance, but you’ll take a few hundred votes from the mayor,” the baron said. “Anyone would have to say objectively that you’re trying to put your son’s Red-Green coalition into power.”
    “
Va te faire enculer
, Baron. I’ve got a lot of support and I’m going to win this thing and if people like you come to their senses, I’ll win by a landslide. Anyway, I thought you’d become a friend of my son, Bruno. I hear you’ve been getting free dinners at that fancy restaurant,” Pons said with a sneer.
    Bruno’s mouth fell open in disbelief, but his jaw clenched. If there had been room to move his arm, Bruno would have been tempted to punch the sneer off Pons’s face, but the baron’s hand was on his arm.
    “You’re out of line,” the baron snapped at Pons. “I was there. Your son wanted to pick up the check, but Bruno insisted on paying.”
    “Okay, maybe I was misinformed,” Pons said with a shrug. “I suppose you’re pissed off with him because he’s stealing your lady friend.”
    Bruno took a deep breath. “Were you born such a miserable old bastard, Pons, or do you practice this stuff every day?”
    “Hey, no offense,” said Pons, his meaty face suddenly creasing into a grin as if it were all a joke between friends. “Plenty more where she came from for a rugby star like you. And one thing about the ladies, what it is that they’ve got, it doesn’t wear out.”
    Bruno turned away in disgust. Pons caught his arm. “I didn’t mean anything by it. So what if he is a ladies’ man, that damned son of mine? He gets it from me. And it’s about all I see of me in the jerk.”
    Bruno ignored him and turned to the baron. “I’ve had enough.”
    “The baron understands me,” Pons insisted. “I was just telling him about a
maison de passe
I know in Bergerac, very discreet, very well run. I’ve known the madam since she was working herself. She’s always got some fresh young things on offer who are eager to please. The younger the flesh the better, I always say. We ought to organize a party, make a night of it. My treat, Bruno. What do you say?”
    Bruno squeezed back into the crowd behind him to make room and grabbed Pons’s belt buckle. He pulled just enough to make a gap and poured his glass of wine down into the man’s crotch.
    “I say you ought to cool down,” he said, pushing theempty glass down behind Pons’s belt and squirming away through the crowd. He was steaming with the effort of suppressing his anger but knowing that phrase “stealing your lady friend” would stick in his brain. There could be a kernel of truth to it, an unpleasant little voice whined in his head. She was seeing a lot of him, and he was luring her onto his council list. And he was handsome. And rich. Bruno slammed a mental door shut on the nasty seed that Pons had planted, knowing it would open again, probably in the small hours of the