recently received from the Social Studies Research Department of the University of Duke, North Carolina. If, as suggested, anyone was stupid enough to lose everything they possessed, then surely it was their own fault? A result of free will nurtured in a democracy. It seemed like a good way to wheedle out those of weak character. Arthur felt confused. The conversation of several months ago with Joe seemed to justify his son-in-law’s attitude. But that Joe LeRice could be such a testy individual and Arthur could never face the words, I told you so, from him. Here was a man whose mind was so closed, that daylight could never have brightened the darker recesses, but his own precious daughter loved Joe and he seemed to make her happy, so that was something and although Arthur chose not to like Joe, he could not help but respect him.
Arthur toyed with the notion that they could be dangling a carrot of self-destruction in front of their weaker citizens? What if it was his children that succumbed to the temptation? No, his children had more sense. Then it would be somebody else’s children. Did that make it any better? But then what about freedom of choice? He had no right to say what people could do with their own money.
Arthur thought about some of his own friends. He envisaged them going through the motions that were documented in the research paper.
The prolonged absences, the habitual lying, loss of dignity, alcoholic tendencies, denial and possible stealing, not to mention legitimate commitments that could no longer be paid off. He put these scenarios in the category that they belonged; the extreme category. After all, a politician’s job was to please the mainstream, and if the mainstream could have two cars in their garage, then it was mission accomplished. His dilemma was interrupted by the ringing of his private telephone. It had to be something important. It was Mike Ackroyd, one of the four members of ExCo.
“Arthur. It’s Mike. How are you?”
“I’m struggling with that damned gambling report. No wonder ExCo passed it on. I still can’t decide if it’s win-win, lose-win or lose-lose”
“Come on Arthur,” said Ackroyd condescendingly. “ExCo have enough on their plate, without added distractions. You’re only doing a study, not building the Pillars of Hercules. Anyway, if the casino was to be approved, it would fall under your portfolio. We just happened to think that you would be the best man for the job.”
“I’m sorry,” apologized Arthur, “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“I thought you’d breeze through it,” said Ackroyd, sounding surprised at detecting anything other than excitement in his fellow politician’s voice. “What was your final figure on the value of the package?”
“I’d estimate about one hundred and thirty million dollars. But it’s not the money that’s bothering me, Mike. It’s the effect on our younger population.” Arthur hoped that he was not beginning to sound like Joe LeRice.
“What do you mean?” Ackroyd pressed.
“Well, I’m not entirely convinced that introducing this legislation would be beneficial to the long term future of the islands. Honestly, I haven’t decided what to recommend as yet.”
“Have you thought what this government could achieve with one hundred and thirty million dollars? It would practically buy our seats for the next election.”
“Seats are there to be won, Mike, not bought,’ countered Arthur, secretly pleased that he was still able to sound idealistic.
“That’s typical of you, Arthur,” laughed Ackroyd, “but you are right, as usual. The directors of the consortium will be coming next week. Perhaps you can pick their brains a little before you give your final recommendation.”
“Maybe you are right this time, Mike. I don’t want to make a hasty decision without all the facts. But you do understand, don’t you? We can’t go around jeopardizing the future of our starry-eyed youth.”
“Of course we can’t. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But you have to be objective and say what you think. After all, it’s not as though we as a nation have had much experience of this kind of thing. I’ll see you in the Legislative Assembly tomorrow.”
They hung up. Arthur felt a little relieved thanks to the understanding of Mike Ackroyd. Although only in his forties, Mike had been in government now for eight years and was generally considered to be one of the more astute political figures in Cayman. A certain amount of respect was derived from the fact that he had a degree in business management from the prestigious University of California, Los Angeles. It was this academic success and a powerful drive that had propelled Mike Ackroyd from an ordinary Legislative Assembly member to Executive Council.
At the start of each new term of office, four of the twelve Assembly members would be elected by their colleagues to serve on this elite board. These four people were generally considered to be the most powerful members of the community, even more powerful than the Governor who was posted every four years from Britain. Cayman Islands Governors tend to remove themselves from politics and act as figureheads. A posting to the Cayman Islands by the Foreign Office is regarded as a reward for long service and usually occurs during the twilight of their diplomatic career.
One influential Caymanian politician is reported to have hit the nail on the head when asked his views on the Governor. He answered, “He may be the Governor, but I’m the Boss.”
Arthur would have been justified in thinking that Mike Ackroyd had him to thank for his seat on Executive Council, but Arthur did not think like that. He saw Mike as the best man for the job and that was that. Ackroyd’s heavy responsibilities jetted him all around the globe on behalf of the islands.
Arthur had compiled a long list of questions that he would put to the directors of the consortium. If they could not give him satisfactory answers then he would be forced to give a negative recommendation and then lobby the eleven other members of the Legislative Assembly to do the same when the issue became public and went to a vote.
There was nothing else he could do this evening. He locked the relevant papers away in his private safe and headed past his secretary’s empty desk to the elevator. Perhaps he would have a pleasant evening tonight at Joe and Rachael’s new house, he thought? If he didn’t ask Joe LeRice’s opinion on politics, he was sure to have a decent time. Failing that, at least he was sure of a good plate of food, they always did an excellent job with their cooking.
Somehow, he actually felt himself resenting their happiness. He could find no obvious explanation except that he was under a lot of strain at work. He cast aside his jealousy with the contempt that it deserved and strode out into the tropical humidity. The thick air hung around him like a mantle of discontent.
That night Joe soon became aware of Arthur’s inner strife. As Rachael chatted with her mother, Joe took his father-in-law out onto the patio for a talk.
“What’s wrong, Arthur? You don’t seem to be yourself tonight. Anything I can help you with?” Joe asked.
“I appreciate your concern, Joe, but there’s not much you can do.”
“Is it that gambling thing again?” Over the last two months or so, Joe had thought of little else.
“Shit! I was hoping to leave my work in the office tonight,” snapped Arthur.
“I didn’t mean to pry, but I had hoped for an update.” Joe interjected.
“I probably shouldn’t have bothered you with it in the first place. It’s my fault. Just forget I mentioned
