Hemingway’s Chair

asked.
    ‘It’s
early days. We have to keep a low profile. There are two or three groups
chasing the same technology, but they’re not there yet. The Post Office network
could beat the balls off the rest. If it’s used properly.’
    Martin
had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that he should not be hearing this.
Geraldine was cutting and slicing and humming Aida in the kitchen.
    ‘So,’
Martin had to make an effort to concentrate. ‘Are you saying that you’re
involved with a private company — ’
    Marshall
nodded. ‘I’m a limited company, yes. I have to be for my own protection.’
    ‘And
your company is involved with an outside partner?’
    ‘Sure.
My company, Shelflife Limited, sells my services to an international
communications company called Nordkom.’
    ‘Whilst
you’re still an employee of the Post Office.’
    ‘Right.’
    Martin
found himself glancing fearfully at the door. He started to speak then dropped
his voice as Geraldine appeared from the kitchen, glanced at them both, smiled
and walked down the passage towards the bedroom. Marshall nodded after her.
‘She’s all right. She works for Shelflife. Knows everything.’ Martin stared at
him. His head swung back to Geraldine only to see a door shut behind her. He
slowly turned back to Marshall. ‘Surely,’ he began haltingly, if this is true,
it’s unbelievable.’
    Nick
flicked his hair and allowed himself a smile. ‘Nicely put.’
    His
smugness made Martin angry as well as puzzled. ‘I mean, it’s absolutely wrong,
isn’t it? You’re employed by the Post Office. It’s unethical.’
    ‘They
were unethical first.’
    Martin
swallowed the remains of his whisky. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’
    Marshall
stretched out his long legs. ‘Because I have a feeling your great love for the
Post Office establishment is no greater than mine. It died the day they
appointed me Manager, didn’t it? We’re brothers under the skin, Martin. We both
feel a bit thwarted. Another?’ He pointed at Martin’s glass.
    Martin
held it out tentatively. He wanted to keep a clear head so he could remember
all this. ‘Thanks. Small one,’ he added. Unnecessarily.
    Marshall
stood up. He stood easily, casually, hands thrust comfortably into trouser
pockets. Geraldine passed by and smiled. As Marshall spoke he moved to a
trayful of bottles. ‘Besides which, I need your help.’
    ‘To
do what?’
    Marshall
looked around. ‘Seen the Scotch, Gerry?’ Geraldine’s arm with a rolled-up
sleeve and a bottle of Scotch appeared round the kitchen doorway.
    ‘For
various reasons — proximity to continental markets, low land values, local
political stability — we, that is, we and Nordkom, see Theston as the prime
location for the transmission centre of the system we’re working on.’ He bent
forward, poured a careful quarter inch into Martin’s glass and handed it to
him. ‘Theston will be the nerve centre of the operation. It would be nice to
have someone working for us with... local expertise.’
    Martin
found his mouth was quite dry. His grip around the glass tight and warm.
    Marshall
replaced the bottle and walked across to the window. He pushed one of the
curtains gently aside and looked out. Then he let the curtain fall back and
turned again to Martin. ‘And of course you would be entitled to a consultancy
fee.’
    ‘A
consultancy fee?’
    ‘Oh,
yes. From the moment you came on board you’d be entitled to a fee.’
    Marshall
reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope. ‘I didn’t expect you to come
here for nothing.’
    He
laid a long, buff envelope on the coffee table. ‘What’s that?’
    ‘That’s
a thousand.’
    ‘A
thousand pounds !'
    ‘To
begin with.’
    Martin
stared down at the table.
    He
could not take his eyes from the envelope. It lay there like one of those
killer plants he’d read about: innocent and deadly at the same time. Innocuous
until touched, then instantly snapping shut to engulf the molester. Martin knew
that whatever happened he must not touch it. He heard Marshall’s crisp,
classless voice, as if from a long way away. ‘Think of it as an investment in
your future,’
    ‘It
was saying. ‘And the future of the town you were born and bred in. What you are
becoming part of is something exciting, and groundbreaking. It’s something that
can only do good.’
    There
was a sudden hiss and a resounding clang from the kitchen. ‘Shit, there goes
the spinach!’ Geraldine shouted.
    Nick
Marshall