Month: March 2019

Morning

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…some work in progress from the Cazique of Poyais story…

It was not a giant leap to find the man who they had met on the voyage from London once they knew the name of his company. They took to calling it the Neustrie so it wasn’t so much of a mouthful. Jacques helped them yet again, if in an incredibly irritating fashion, to locate the list of companies addresses and names of their partners in another obscure book. Once they had secured the valuable information and expended most of their remaining funds on wine for Jacques, they slipped away without a trace using some less than clever distractions and relying heavily on the fact that Jacques was considerably drunk.

Off they went to rest with the name they had been searching for, Lehuby, and a Paris address to bout. The next steps were slightly hazy to them all, but each had a piece of an idea and kept their grand plan juggling overhead. They almost didn’t care if it failed as they would be no worse off than when they disembarked the Ocean in London.

It didn’t take long after returning to their bedsit that each had retired to their small section of the room on their makeshift bed and passed out. It was another tiring day in a string of tiring days that felt like they would never end. Each day was just a continuation of the exhaustion. Each day they had to power through on dreams of what could be and the almost indomitable human will to survive to the next day. To continue and to create. That was it. The entire process drained.

Emma woke first in the morning, just after day break. The curtains in the room were ineffectual and her nerves were high. Sleep had come and gone in seemingly the blink of an eye. She did not feel rested, but there was no further ability to sleep. Lying in her bed she looked over at Jose and then Noemi.

The twins had each other. Always. She had herself and maybe she had them. There was a lingering uncertainty in her mind over it all. Did she love Jose or was she trying to love him so that she belonged? It was not a question she could answer. All she knew was that she yearned to belong and she felt that Noemi was now like her sister. They had been through so much.

Noemi stirred while Jose still slumbered, unperturbed by the sun beaming through the windows.

“Good morning,” Emma said softly.

“Good morning, sister,” Noemi said without thinking as she roused herself.

“Yes, I feel like we’re sisters too. I’m glad you, or at least the half awake you, feels that way too.”

Noemi opened her eyes more fully to wake herself up and smiled, “I didn’t realise what I was saying. It is true though. I feel it. It must be so then.”

Emma returned the smile, but didn’t say anything. They both lie staring at the ceiling and then back at each other for a few moments as they readied themselves mentally for the day ahead.

They all knew that MacGregor was greedy enough to fall for this whole secondary scheme idea, they just weren’t sure if Lehuby was. There was enough evidence to suggest he was seeing as he took the meeting at a moments notice at slight hint of the idea there was money involved. Still, they were trying to convince two separate groups of seemingly well to do and relatively intelligent men of a fiction. At the very least, they needed to mentally prepare themselves.

Jose continued to sleep, in a deep and likely dream filled slumber, while both Emma and Noemi got up and started moving about the room, both to seem busy to one another and to push the day along.

“What do we have for breakfast?” Emma asked.

“There is still some bread left wrapped in that cloth.”

“How many days old is it?” she asked as she tapped the outside of the cloth.

“Anyone’s guess really. We were out all day yesterday at the coffee house, so it’s at least two days old. Surely it’s still ok. I can fry it up if in some oil if it’s a bit too stale.”

Emma took the initiative and went to the fire place herself and put on the pan, dolloping a small piece of lard in, following by the baguette sliced as well as she could into little rounds. Noemi looked disapprovingly over Emma’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the way that she would have done it. When Emma finished, Noemi went about making her own food, not satisfied with Emma’s efforts.

“I’m just trying you know,” Emma said with a hint of anger and frustration, staring down at her bread.

Noemi sulked. She hasn’t meant to upset Emma. It’s just that food was such a delicate and precious thing. It literally gives a person energy, but it can also nourish the soul when treated with enough care. Good ingredients always made this easier. Though you could make something delicious with goods to hand if one put in the right effort and leveraged the right skills.

“Come over here, let me show you.”

Nibbling at her bread, Emma approached the fire to see what Noemi had to show.

Using the same pan, Noemi chucked in some lard and then waited for it to melt into a translucent liquid, slowly bubbling away. Only then did she put in some pieces of bread in the pan. Not too many as to crowd out the pan and reduce the effectiveness of the frying. She then tossed in some salt, pepper and a herb that Emma didn’t recognise but which had small leaves on a long stem. After a few moments, Noemi flipped the pieces of bread and then waited another few moments. Then she put them on the small plate they had a showed it to Emma.

“Use what you have, be calm, watch it carefully and take your time. That’s it really.”

“Sounds like lessons for life rather than cooking.”

“Perhaps. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to follow those principles in the meeting with MacGregor and Lehuby today. We want them to think they’ve negotiated between themselves. We’re just pushing them in the right direction.”

“I feel like they’re both so greedy that it won’t take much to work, but I also don’t want to be unprepared. Maybe we should wake Jose.”

They both munched on Noemi’s bread with Emma’s discarded. There was only one piece left which they agreed to use to wake Jose. Like he was a slumbering dog, they put they put the final piece of fried bread under Jose’s nose and left it there while he continued to breathe deeply. It took a few deep breathes, but it wasn’t long before the savoury smell filled his nostrils and his mouth began to salivate. The combination woke him up in a dreary state. Sitting up he looked around and, completely ignoring Emma and Noemi, found the piece of bread that woke and began munching away.

When he finished the piece he looked up and asked, “is there more?”

“More?” They said in unison, “not for those that sleep in!”

Emma then added, “it’s time to work.”

Writing

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I started very young writing and not caring who ultimately read what I wrote. The stories had a lot of pictures of questionable quality, but then not all 9 year olds are prodigies. This one certainly wasn’t. I have the bounds copies of ruled paperback notebooks somewhere in my box of things from childhood and I’m certain that I’d still find the stories amusing is some way, if even only for the memory of the joy I had writing them.

As I grew older, I thought I had to write something people liked. I didn’t put anything out there as I thought my friends would think it was stupid or whatever else.

Now that I’m even older. Still not really old though. I definitely don’t care. It’s something fun to do. With that attitude, I’ve finally written a 60k plus word novel and still have more in me until I reach the end of the story. It’s taken a while because of competing priorities, but it’s come naturally. Feels great.

Neustrie Found

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…some work in progress from the Cazique of Poyais story…

It took them the best part of two days To navigate a foreign language and unwilling assistants to find a place where traders talked gossip and shop.  The most popular place was a coffee shop on the banks of the Seine.  This was not to be confused with the cafes dotted around Paris in such numbers, but rather a talking shop much like Lloyd’s coffee shop in London.  

It was all business and shipping gossip at the coffee shop, nothing personal.  As such, it was quite odd to see a pair of women walk in with a man.  It caused a momentary glance from all patrons of the shop.  Though they were all so consumed by their business affairs that no one paid them much attention.

“Where do we start?” Asked Jose as the three of them huddled in a corner of the shop as away from the crowd as they could be.

“Do you see anywhere that looks like a registry?” Suggested Emma.

“How about the man, do any of these look like him?” Noemi asked of Emma to no avail other than peaking Jose’s jealously once more.

There were no easy answers.  All they knew was that the owner was a man, which didn’t help, and that he aspired to prominence in South America, which somewhat narrowed the search, but not by much.  They spent the afternoon asking around to the few who would listen.  None recognised the person they were looking for.  No one so much as pointed them in a direction which might help.

As the busy period of the day winded down, they were left in the corner of a room with only a few inhabitants.  They had held out hope that they would find the man that day as MacGregor was already becoming impatient.  It didn’t appear they would have such luck though given that it was highly unlikely that any of the men remaining was the one they sought.

In the middle of the room a patron made a particularly garish laughing noise to another man who seemed wholly unimpressed.  The other man made his excuses and promptly left the coffee house, leaving the garish laugher to find a new target.  A waiter wandered by picking up empty coffee cups and glasses, but did so in such an expert fashion as to avoid any possible interaction with the garish laugher.  Clearly the waiter had been caught in his vice before and didn’t feel the need to become trapped once again.  

As he scanned around the room he saw many faces that he recognised as being quite unkind or otherwise not very interesting to him, but then he laid his eyes on Noemi, Emma and Jose standing in a corner, looking somewhat clandestine.  It wasn’t often that younger people such as themselves found their way into the coffee shop and even when they did, usually they were some hanger on apprentice or other upstart trying their parent’s fortunes at trading.  Being the forward type, he approached the three of them without a hint of embarrassment at interrupting a conversation mid flow.

“Good afternoon my friends, I am Jacques LeBold.  What, can I ask, are three young people such as yourselves doing in a place like this?”

Jose was about to answer when Jacques butted in, “Wait, no.  Let me guess!”

The three of them gave each other puzzled looks and a few eye rolls, though Jacques was so excited by his own invented game that he gave no notice to these uncomfortable looks.

“There doesn’t appear to be anything romantic going on here, so likely siblings.  Though the one girl doesn’t look anything like the others.  Foster siblings?”

It wasn’t a line of guessing that made Jose very comfortable.  He was already battling his own jealously and inaction regarding his romantic intentions with Emma.  He didn’t need strangers weighing in on the topic and making it even harder for him, so he was about to correct Jacques when his monologue switched course.

“That’s all rather besides the point though, isn’t it?  Even if you were foster siblings, what on Earth are you doing here?  Looking for employment?  No, no one hands out jobs here, which you would have found out quite quickly, so I don’t think that’s what it is.  Could you be starting up your own trading company?  Preposterous.  I simply won’t allow such a view to prevail.  No, you must be here by accident, that’s it.”

Jacques stopped talking, but none of them responded.  They were waiting for him to continue with his monologue and couldn’t be bothered to start talking knowing they would likely be interrupted.  He looked eagerly at them in the most unsavoury way as they contemplated whether it was safe to speak without interruption.

Finally, Emma spoke, “first, Sir, we are not step siblings.  This is my husband”

Jose’s heart leapt at the words and then quickly crashed back down as he realised it was a ploy to keep this unsavoury character from making any advances.  Either way, he liked the ring it had to it.

“Second,” Emma continued, “we are not here by accident.  We are looking for a specific trading company, but we can’t remember the name of the company or the trader we met.  We know what he looks like, so we thought if we hung around here long enough, we’d find him.”

“I see,” said Jacques with a hint of excitement, “what an excellent puzzle.  I think I am just the man to help you as I know everyone in this business.  Is there anything else you know?”

“Its a new company,” said Jose, “aspiring to prominence in South America.  There is definitely more than just the man we are looking for as he mentioned partners.  We believe also that they are based out of Le Havre.  Emma remembers what he looks like.”

She shot him a glance that asked why he said the last sentence in such a way before responding, “yes, he was slightly shorter than Jose here, must have been late 30s, early 40s, a slender build with dark hair.  Unfortunately nothing that I can point out that much distinguishes him from a typical Frenchman.”

“That could indeed describe many a trader that walks through these doors looking for insurance on their enterprises.  If you buy me a drink it will likely jog my memory.”

Jose rolled his eyes but obliged, buying a coffee and bringing it back to the area they were in.

“No, boy, not coffee!  I need stronger stuff.  Get me a glass of red wine!”

With another roll of the eyes, Jose obliged.  The funds they received from Gustavus were starting to run low, but he could still spring for some decent wine.

“Much better!” Jacques began, “now my memory will surely be jogged.”

No one really knew what to expect.  How could this Jacques pluck a name of thin air?

“We start with a problem.  There are several firms aspiring to prominence in South America.  It is, after all, very lucrative in terms of trading if you can get it right.  Likewise, your description of this man is not illuminating.”

“Exactly, we’re looking for a faceless needle in a stack of needles who all want to do the same thing,” an exasperated Jose pitches in.

“Yes indeed my boy.  However, you said one thing which may have got my memory working.  You said they were part of a new firm, yes?  And you have met this man?  Where did you meet?”

“It was on the journey over from London that we met.  This was a few weeks ago now.”

“Ah, now there is an interesting fact that is very useful!  Let me think, who has been to London recently?”

Jacques stood sipping at his wine as he counted animatedly on his fingers and muttered various names to himself.  Part way through his deliberations he finished his wine and motioned to Jose to get him another, to which he obliged.  It was endlessly frustrating to Emma and Noemi in particular as they were completely spectators in what could turn out to be absolutely nothing.  More than a wasted couple of hours at least, as they didn’t have any concept of how long Jacques could drag this out.

After a few moments of him racking his mind, Jacques put his hand up into the air and sank the most recent glass of red wine that Jose had brought over.  He was certainly not sober at this point, though he seemed a man who was, if nothing else, adept at drinking.  They all held out hope that his thoughts would lead them somewhere interesting.

They wandered by the bar, where Jacques instructed Jose to buy him another glass of red wine.  His fourth on their watch, but who knows how many he had before meeting them.  They may have been in a coffee shop, though you wouldn’t have known it from watching Jacques.  He lead them towards a book that was tucked away in another corner of the coffee shop.  It was not guarded in any way that they could see, though Jacques was making it out to be a very important book, or rather, ledger.

“This is a record of every ship that has been confirmed to be sunk, who owned the ship, what goods were onboard and who had insured it.”

“Ah,” said Jose, “That’s incredible.  Are these all ships travelling from France?”

“Indeed they are.  This coffee shop is a much smaller version of something back in London called Lloyd’s coffee shop.  Most of the trade through London is insured there.”

“So why have you brought us here?” Emma interjected into the frustratingly convivial conversation.

“Well, my dear, that is an excellent question,” Jacques laughed to himself as his words lolled off his tongue, “Everything you said made me think of a man who had recently be in London as he was searching for new vessels and trading partners, as well as financial backers.”

“Which has nothing to do with sunken ships,” Emma snapped.

“Patientence!  Just for that moment, I’ll need another glass of wine before we proceed.”

Jose begrudgingly marched back to the bar where the barmen had a glass waiting for him.  Clearly this was not the first time something of this nature had happened.  Vowing that it would be the last glass he bought as it was now starting to put a more serious dent in their funds, he took the glass, paid the barman and made his way back to the book, where Jacques stood stoically, though somewhat shakily, awaiting his drink in silence.  As soon as Jose gave him the glass, he was off again, though speaking directly to his drink patron.

“If my memory serves, which is normally does, I believe that the man you are after was in London, as I began, looking for investors and the like, though I can’t remember his name.”

Anger flushed into Noemi and Emma’s faces and they were ready to pounce when Jose said, “But?”

“But, I do recall that his firm had recently lost a ship.  It was the reason the one man was in London.  I couldn’t recall exactly the name of the company, but knew the name would be in here, as of course I recalled the name of the ship – The Lafitte.  So, if we just look down the list back a few months and then across…”

They all watched his fingers slowly work across the page until they reached the name of the firm of traders who had leased The Lafitte.  There is was in plain and simple lettering.  The name of the company that would most certainly set them on their way to complete their plan and ride off into the sunset – Compagnie de la Nouvelle Neustrie.

Shipping

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…some work in progress from the Cazique of Poyais story…

Gustavus was much obliging when Jose asked him for some petty cash to keep the group in lodgings and fed, quickly shoving over the equivalent of a few pounds to tide them over, but with the express instruction on where to find him should they need more.  They had bought themselves about a week or two.  It was the long game that mattered though — get all the money that MacGregor thought was his.  Most of it at least.

To that end they now had to find a front.  It was a particularly hard task as they either wanted some one in on it who wouldn’t get harmed or a swindler and scoundrel much like MacGregor who could take the fall.  There was a man they had in mind, who they fortunately met on their journey, though it wasn’t clear which camp he was in.  Everyone hoped for the latter as it felt a much easier task.

“Where did that man say he was from?” Asked Jose, straining to even remember the man’s name.

“Lehuby, wasn’t it?” Said Emma.

“It was,” responded Noemi, “though didn’t he say he was based in Le Havre?  Or was that where the company was?”

“That part I do remember,” said Jose, “it was where the company is.  Le Havre is a harbour town.  I think our man was a bit too stuck up to live there full time, so he’s bound to have apartments here in Paris.”

Pondering the whereabouts of Lehuby, they wandered along the Champs Elysee, staring at the wonderful buildings and the beauty of the city they were in.  No doubt there were parts far more unseemly, though they weren’t anywhere in sight.  Their task of finding a man in a city of men was somewhat helped this time by having far more information.  There must be a number of places where shipping types hang around in order to secure mandates.  It was just the small matter of figuring that out or finding a Paris address for the company.

“What was the name of his company, perhaps we could look it up?” Said Jose

“It was ‘Compagnie de la’ something,” said Noemi ever so slightly unhelpfully, as she knew.

“Yes, very good sister, we know it’s a company of something.”

“We’re never going to remember it when we are trying so hard.  Let’s go in search of the shipping owners’ hangouts and see if we can find him there.  I remember exactly what he looks like.”

A redness cane over Jose’s face.  Though he and Emma had spent many tender moments together over the course of their travels from London to Paris, there was such a tension about their plan and future that they had not shared another kiss.  The mention of her clearly remembering another man filled him with unwanted jealously.  Deep down he knew that it was just a comment.  People can recall strangers without it having romantic implications.  Still, the body reacted even where the logical mind disagreed.

A Proposal

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…some work in progress from the Cazique of Poyais story…

The bluntness of the question was refreshing after the waffling that had just occurred.  Down to business as soon as his business partner was out of the room.  The three of them knew that they couldn’t trust this man a centimeter, so they had planned for just this occasion.  In order to put herself on equal footing, Emma stood and paced around the room.

She began, “We know that you need locals to help you convince people that Poyais is in fact a real place.  Well, we know that the land is real, but to convince them that there is substance to what the Sketch says.”

There was a burning pain in her heart as she said the words.  She knew that the journey which she began just after Fulham Palace was complete, though with a slight nuance.  She would not be scammed and she would scam, but only those who tried to defraud others.  MacGregor was her first and probably best target.  Jose and Noemi had agreed, but it was Emma that burned with the passion to end this man’s life as he knew it, rather than extinguish it altogether.

“Jose is probably best placed to do this.  Let’s be honest, the Frenchmen we are trying to part from their money will always be more receptive to a man.  We can style him as something grand – though not as grand as Cazique – he should be like a Prime Minister where you are Head of State.”

“Excellent!” Cried MacGregor, “That was exactly what I was thinking.  Do go on.”

Emma looked slightly bewildered at him and then continued, “so that solves one problem —”

“Problem?”

“Yes, your last Scheme failed for you as you didn’t think each step through properly to its conclusion.  It’s why you find yourself here plotting again rather than counting your fortunes.”

“Yes, quite.  Very well, continue.”

After a curt roll of the eyes, Emma proceeded, “the other key fault was that your name was all over everything.  You couldn’t move but to see s mention of Poyais and MacGregor —”

“‘Sir’ MacGregor,” he corrected, “in any event, I don’t see how that is a great fault.”

“Regardless of whether you were responsible or not, it all has your name against it do people think you were the mastermind.  You were, of course, but you don’t need people to know that.  You just need to profit from that.”

“And how does one gain this distance?” He inquired, intrigued.

“Easy.  You get a front.  Someone, a company here in France, who you sell the land to and will in turn market a settling scheme.”

“Will they pay up front?”

“Unlikely, though you never know what people will do until you ask them.  I would say that you agree to do it on a 75% pay as you go basis.  If they sell £1,000 of land, you get £750.  They have the risk though.”

“Very interesting.  Though you’d have to find someone?”

“We have ideas.”

“What else?” Asked MacGregor doing his best to hide his pleasure, but failing.

It was Noemi’s turn to show her hand.  As they said at the start, they were a package deal.

“I imagine you don’t have the easiest time finding banking partners, is that fair to say?”

Silence made it clear that it was a sore subject.  On their travels from London to Paris, the group managed to hear more about MacGregor’s escapades, so they knew it was a good button to push.  Everywhere that MacGregor looked, people were bashing in back rather than helping him out.  He tried his hardest to convince people, but no one wanted to take the risk.  In a way he was a very desperate man.  Though his desperation was for wealth rather than survival so it wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it sounded.  Noemi drove the point home, ensuring he understood that he truly did need them on this particular point of his scheme.

“It was certainly what we heard from everyone that we came across between here in London, not least in the City.  The words ‘black’ and ‘listed’ were used together frequently.  So, I do think that one of the key successes to your earlier scheme will be quite hard to replicate.  Is it really worth it without that piece of the puzzle?”

They all knew that it was actually, but MacGregor was a greedy little man and couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, OK, you are quite fair in what you say.  Am I really to believe that you know the only banker that will work with me?”

“He won’t necessarily want to work with you — with us — but he will.  This particular man is no stranger to the grey areas of finance, so that will be fine, and he owes us a very large favour.  We helped him out in an unfortunate situation and saved one of his bigger schemes from falling apart.”

A smile beamed over MacGregor’s face, extra pleased by the fact that it was a bit of entrapment that would get these bankers on board.

“This is excellent, my friends,” said MacGregor, who still hadn’t asked what any of their names were, “so where do we go next.”

“We’ll go and find you the company here in France to act as your front,” said Emma, “and then we’ll come back here.”

“Excellent!  Make sure you liaise with Hippsley if you need any cash to keep you afloat while you work these details out.  Don’t send word to London until we get the ‘front’ sorted.  Thank you and please do show yourselves out.”

It was not precisely the goodbye they were expecting, but they were in exactly the position that they had hoped they would be in when the meeting had started.  They were amazed at how easily it had worked.  The three of them bustled out onto the street of their flat and saw Gustavus returning from afar.  They decided to wait for him and fill him in out what they were doing.  Not that it was a scam, as he was a true believer in the Poyais fantasy, but that there was a float they needed to do MacGregor’s — Sir MacGregor’s — bidding.  While they waited for him to approach, they shared a knowing smile amongst them.  Step one was complete.

MacGregor

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…some work in progress from the Cazique of Poyais story…

Given that the man was on the run and seemingly out of funds with the Poyais scandal having a real sting in the tail, they did not expect him to be living it such plush surroundings.  The apartment was just off the Champs Elysee and boasted five rooms in all, excluding the kitchen.  More than ample space for any family.  MacGregor had certainly landed on his feet, even if the so called hireling press were out for his blood.

When the group arrived in Gustavus tow, MacGregor was alone.  His family were out for the day exploring Paris on a beautiful day.  Unbeknownst as always about the full extent of their patriarch’s dealings.  MacGregor did not sit at a desk as most of the group had expected him to, working away to hatch his next Poyais scheme.  Rather he sat on his sofa, lounging with a cognac.  As Gustavus entered, MacGregor immediately began barking orders in his own charming way, “excellent Gustavus, I have been doing a mighty bit of thinking here and need your assistance with some writing.  Letters to the King of Spain and a constitution.”

It took him several moments of walking back and forth in the sitting room to realise that Gustavus was not, in fact, alone.  He stopped in his tracks as soon as he did realise and began questioning immediately, “who are these people Gustavus?  Why on earth have you brought them to my home?”

Gustavus did not see it playing out quite in this manner, so he momentarily froze allowing a thick blanket of awkwardness to fall over the room and all contained.  The moment was long and most arduous for Gustavus, then for Jose, Noemi and Emma.  MacGregor was seemingly impervious to awkwardness, no doubt a skill honed through many interactions where he forced people’s hands into trusting him through sheer mental force.  All he was waiting for was an explanation and he exclaimed as much.

Shaking out of his awkward fog, Gustavus finally responded, “these fine people are from British Honduras, Sir, and they come seeking employment.  I’ve only done as we agreed, Sir.”

“Ah, Yes, very good!  Show them in then Gustavus.  Don’t let them just stand there awkwardly while we speak,” MacGregor beamed.

Showing them in, Gustavus got them seated on the sofas and chairs in the sitting room which weren’t occupied by MacGregor and then signalled the servant to come assist them with refreshments.  It was all otherworldly for Noemi, Emma and Jose who sat dumbfounded requesting tea and wine from the servant as if they had never left the cafe.  When everyone had something to drink and was seated, Jose made an attempt to ask a question, but was quickly and sharply cut off by MacGregor who expounded on his current vision, “I will assume you know very little of my current venture, but have heard of me previously.  Many people have.  You can’t believe all that you hear in the press, though, so let me make some quick corrections.  I am a veteran of the Latin Foreign legions and have spent much of my life living and fighting the just cause in Latin America.  In my travels I came across a land called Poyais, which is claimed to be a false land.  I assure you that it is not.”

Emma seethed at the mention of Poyais and the mans arrogance’s.  Though, she kept her cool with a calming hand on her knee from Jose.  They would make the scam artist pay where it mattered most to him.

Continuing his monologue, MacGregor said, “my agents mis-sold the nature of Poyais and lead the settlers astray.  There is a lovely land there, I assure you.  A land of milk and honey ripe for the right settlers.  Perhaps the French will find the opportunity much more attractive.  I have always said that they are a singularly wonderful people.  Intelligent and adventurous.  I just need the right agents this time.”

“Here here,” chimed in Gustavus to the displeasure of all concerned.

“Are you those agents?” MacGregor asked and then promptly answered himself, “No, we need Frenchmen to front an adventure for the French.  Do you have ships?  I think not, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here.  Money to fund our activities?  Absolutely not.  What then, can you bring to the table?”

Finally he sat silently and waited for a response rather than answering his own questions.

Emma entered the fray, “we can offer much in terms of local knowledge to aid your sales efforts.”

“But you are not a local of Poyais.  You are English.  What use is that?”

“We are close enough,” said Noemi,” being from British Honduras.  From Belize Town.  We know much of Poyais.”

“I see,” said MacGregor pensively, “and then what does the English woman bring?  Is it a package deal?”

Before Emma could respond indignantly, Jose stepped in and said, “we are a package deal.  I imagine that you could do with just one person to aid you in your narrow request for a ‘local’ but we think there is much for us to bring to the table collectively.”

“Such as?”

“We have connections in banking who owe us favours and ideas on how to make this plan, well, successful.  Profitable too.  With minimum risk.”

“Interesting indeed,” said MacGregor as he stood up and wandered to his desk.  He flipped through a stack of papers and then put some in w bundle.  Turning back towards Jose, he said, “very interesting.  I won’t employ you on the spot, but I’m happy to consider it further.  Please do stay and enjoy some more drinks with me.”

Then, turning to Gustavus and handing him the bundle, he ordered, “could you be so kind as to bring these to Mr. Irving.  He needs to tidy some of these letters up and work on the Sketch booklet.”

Without question, Gustavus took the bundle and went on his way, leaving MacGregor alone with his three prospective partners.  He surveyed them before making his final judgement.  When he was satisfied with his assessment he said, “So, tell me how you would improve the scheme.”