“I just hope that you look at both sides of the coin,” said Joe, cooling down hoping that he could drop the subject.
“Please hear me out, Joe” said Arthur, in a firm tone that briefly caught the attention of the two women, “If I felt that proposing new legislation would be detrimental to the country, don’t you think I’d say so.”
“I’m sure you would,” agreed Joe.
“A dear friend of mine told me that when confronted by dilemma, there is only one thing that you can do,” Arthur pontificated.
“Yes?” Joe prompted.
“To yourself be true.”
Their eyes connected in a fleeting tribute to Joe’s late father and this common ground defused the debate as starters were served.
After a sinfully rich dinner, the diners did penance by sitting through a standard dose of clichés after which, Arthur was called upon to present the awards.
Joe was left to mull over the implications of their discussion, retreating from any light family banter to the events that had given him such a rigid view on this subject.
During his college days, Joe, his flat mate Simon, and two other friends had joined a casino. Since the death of his mother, Joe had found himself fighting the kind of escapism that could be found in a bottle and the exciting atmosphere of a casino had seemed a natural progression. After several expensive forays, the eccentric but brilliant Simon had confronted Joe and mathematically proven that losing was inevitable.
Joe had just imparted some of his friend’s words to Arthur along with his own experiences. Fear of losing his best friend had motivated Joe to drop his gambling, but he would never forget the addictive high that came with the winning wager. His two other friends were not so fortunate, and in a few months, they had lost every penny and dropped out from their studies.
Arthur resumed his seat and Joe approached the subject from a calmer angle, “How much time do you have before you finish your feasibility report?” he probed.
“About three months. Then I’ll be meeting with the directors of the consortium to evaluate their final proposal, after which I submit my recommendations to Executive Council.”
“But even if ExCo approve, it’ll still have to go to vote in the Legislative Assembly?” inquired Joe.
“That’s right. The whole thing could take a year before any new laws are passed.”
Although the time frame comforted Joe, he knew that he had not heard the last of this. He felt powerless; after all, this was not his country and he didn’t even have a vote. He would have to hope that Arthur would complete his study and arrive at a negative conclusion, but turning down instant millions might be too much to ask.
The restaurant was showing signs of emptying as the merry travel-agents decided to take their chances of waking up with somebody they had never met before as they hunted the city-beat at one of the nearby night clubs.
The quieter atmosphere was immediate relief to Arthur’s indigestion and he expressed a desire to leave. Joe and Rachael stayed behind for another coffee while Arthur took Elene home.
“It sounded like you and Daddy got a little worked up?” Rachael began.
“It wasn’t as bad as that,” replied Joe. “He asked for my view on legalized gambling and I gave it to him, a little too bluntly perhaps.”
“I don’t think he knows much about it. We’ve never had it here although I’ve read that people can get rich overnight,” she offered.
“That’s true. I’ve never seen a poor bookie,” mused Joe
“A bookie?” Rachael’s quizzical look told Joe it was time to drop the subject.
“It doesn’t matter, honey” said Joe, “it may never happen. Come on, let’s go home.”
After an afternoon of bliss, the evening left them driving home in silence. Rachael was Arthur’s daughter, and that could neither be changed, nor compromised, so Joe decided not to rock the boat, and dropped the matter.
That night he lay awake thinking, chastising himself for being so idealistic, but try as hard as he might, he could not forget the destruction that he had so narrowly avoided. As the memories of his university days played themselves out in his mind, he felt himself remembering the incredible highs and lows that come with the life of a gambler. His pulse began to race and sleep eluded him. Mercifully, important thoughts about his current construction project delivered him from further torture and eventually, he drifted off to sleep at about 3.00 am.
Chapter Four
The four o’clock sun filtered softly through the reflective glass that comprised the outer walls of the Cayman Islands Government Administration Building. This centre of bureaucracy had swiftly been dubbed, The Glass House because of its resemblance to a huge mirror.
On the fourth floor of five, the weary shape that belonged to Arthur Downing sat uncomfortably in an executive chair. He was beginning to understand the feelings of a judge during a long trial as he weighed the pros and cons of the gambling proposal.
Holding onto the desk in front of him, he heaved his neglected body into an upright position and pushed his coastered chair backwards with his legs locking his knees. Raising his heavy arms and joining hands behind his balding head, he took a couple of deep breaths, which only made him more aware of how tired he really was. He moved slowly to the water dispenser and filled up a disposable cup. Bloody things, he thought as he tasted the warm mouthful.
Arthur had a right to be cynical. This confidential request to evaluate legalized gaming that had come down from ExCo was becoming a real Jekyll and Hyde beast. No wonder senior government had passed it on. This was certainly a complex issue and not for the faint-hearted. All the positive things that could be achieved with such vast sums of money warranted serious consideration.
So why was he apprehensive? What could go wrong? If the government fixed a high enough price for the sole gaming rights, then the current backlog of niggling problems could be cleared immediately.
That would also leave surplus money to address some of the real problems. They could commit cash to completing the Manse Road that had lain as a forgotten dirt-track for the last five years. A new school would be a popular addition to the list of short term achievements. What excellent popularity for the next elections in two years time? If ever a guaranteed second term was up for grabs, surely this would be the project to seal it? Alternatively, the government could reduce the fee for the sole rights in exchange for a percentage of the net profit? This would guarantee an income to government which would increase borrowing power with the banks, especially the Caribbean Development Bank to whom they were already in debt after building the new Gerrard Smith airport on Cayman Brac.
The options were becoming endless. It could even herald the dawn of a new era in the development of a solid infrastructure on Little Cayman. Poor Little Cayman. Although it was arguably the most beautiful of all the islands, it had no dock, no electricity grid, no industry and only about 30 people. That was on a good day when the population was swelled by the arrival of a few, millionaire fishermen anxious to subject themselves to the Spartan rigors of the Southern Cross Club and to enjoy the peaceful, empty beaches.
With
