it at the pool. Besides, I always take an early swim.’
‘Then the pool it is,’ he agreed, ‘give me a ring when you are ready. Okay?’
‘I’ll meet you there after eight,’ she promised, reaching up and dragging his mouth to hers. Reluctantly, he responded, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke on her breath spoiling the moment.
****
Sharon lay back on the sofa thinking about her brief interlude with the American. She had not misled her temporary lover with respect to her having initiated inquiries regarding his availability to work in the Philippines. In fact, Sharon Ducay had spent considerable time and effort investigating Stewart, before arriving at the conclusion that he would not be acceptable for the project that she and her uncle had in mind. General consensus supported her assessment of the well-known expatriate geologist. Stewart Campbell was far too much of an idealist to willingly become involved in anything like what she and the General had planned. Their meeting had been coincidental. Sharon’s purpose in attending the conference was to hold discussions with Alexander Kremenchug but, as a last minute change in his plans prevented their introduction, she had decided to stay the day and shop. Meeting the handsome Campbell had merely been a bonus. As she lay stretched out on the well-cushioned sofa, Sharon’s hand dropped to the soft, dark mound between her thighs and she closed her eyes, conjuring up Stewart’s firm body in her mind, as she stroked herself gently.
****
Stewart Campbell came alive to the eight o’clock wake-up call, showered, dressed for the swimming pool and then rode the lift down twelve floors to the scenic setting. Coconut trees hung over the pool area providing questionable shade, and Stewart settled down with a fruit juice waiting for Sharon to appear.
At eight forty-five he knew she had overslept; by nine o’clock he had returned to his room, disappointed, when the hotel reception’s informed him that Miss Sharon Ducay had checked out at seven and returned to the Philippines without so much as leaving him a note.
****
Borneo Gold Corporation
Vancouver – Jakarta
‘I have Chris here with me now, Eric, and he is rightfully pissed. The drilling results bear no fucking resemblance to the first survey report you sent him!’
Alex Kremenchug’s vitriolic outburst was expected, the party listening at the other end nonchalantly lighting a kretek cigarette as he played out the scene, permitting Kremenchug’s tirade to appear genuine.
‘Mine wasn’t a full survey,’ Eric Baird’s defensive voice could be heard on the speaker-phone. ‘Had I been given the necessary funds, I could have provided an extensive drilling survey report.’
‘It’s just not good enough, Eric,’ Kremenchug complained, deep furrows creasing his brow. ‘Shit, Eric!’ he added for additional emphasis, ‘how could you have been so fucking far off with this?’
This comment, as it had not been rehearsed, was met with dumb response. Baird, sitting in the Jakarta apartment that he shared with an advertising executive, suddenly lost his place in the conversation. He checked his notes, taken off an earlier and recorded exchange between him and Alex Kremenchug.
‘Are you still there?’ Kremenchug’s voice bellowed down through the line. An echo repeated his aggressive demand, the final words ‘there, there, there’ reverberating annoyingly through the speakers in the mining company’s Vancouver office.
‘Shit,’ Kremenchug shouted, this too echoing from ground to satellite, then back to an earth station near the Indonesian capital sending Eric Baird the message, ‘shit, shit, shit’ as the geologist responsible for the fabricated report started to panic.
‘Now, wait a minute,’ Baird started to argue, the time lapse between the parties creating the misunderstanding. He was interrupted by the unfamiliar voice of the Canadian company’s chief geologist, and Chairman, on the speakerphone.
‘Eric,’ the hollow sound bounced around the apartment as Baird gathered his thoughts. Speaking directly to Christopher Fielding had not been part of their plan. ‘Eric, this is Chris Fielding,’ the distorted voice claimed.
‘Hello, hello?’ Baird continued to panic, wondering if he should hang up and claim later that they had been cut off.
‘Eric,’ Fielding tried again, ‘it’s Chris Fielding. Can you hear me?’
Of course, Baird could hear him. He just did not wish to be dragged into a conversation without knowing what he was supposed to say. ‘Hello, hello?’ he feigned again, ‘is that still you, Alex?’
Kremenchug realized what had happened, silently admonishing himself for his own stupidity in deviating from the rehearsed dialogue. He moved quickly to circumvent any possible misinterpretation by Fielding.
‘Eric,’ he spoke intermittently, enunciating carefully as if atmospherics were, indeed, the problem, the show entirely for Fielding’s benefit. ‘I think the problem is here, with the speaker system.’ He turned to Fielding, his face covered with the most serious of expressions.
‘I...am...going....to…turn....it...off..okay?’
Baird understood immediately, the conversation then taking a dramatic turn.
‘Eric?’ Kremenchug asked. ‘Eric. Is this clearer?’
‘Can Fielding hear me?
‘No? Then wait a moment and I will check the receiver here.’
‘What’s this shit about being off with the survey?’
‘That’s good. Yes, I can hear you clearly now.’
‘What do you want me to say for Chrissakes?’ This, from the Jakarta end where Baird was now sitting with his legs sprawled across a divan, his kretek cigarette hanging carelessly from his fingers and in danger of burning the plastic head-cover, which had never been removed since delivery.
‘Eric, can you give Vancouver any additional information which would support the earlier survey?’ Kremenchug manipulated the conversation as was necessary.
‘Are you sure that Fielding can’t hear me?’ Baird asked, worried, ignoring the question.
‘No!’ Kremenchug responded flatly.
‘Then go and fuck yourself, Alex!’ Baird yelled into the phone, his Bacardi- influenced bravado tipping him over the edge. At the other end of the line Kremenchug stood speechless. With a click of his tongue, he turned to the Canadian mining executive, shrugged his shoulders then hung up.
‘We lost the connection,’ Kremenchug lied.
****
Since their first meeting in Jakarta, two and a half years before, the company had been floated, successfully raising several millions from the Canadian public. In fact, the offer had been oversubscribed, such was the interest for mining companies with Indonesian gold prospects and, as the Borneo Gold Corporation boasted several of these within the Kalimantan provinces, stockholder funds filled the subscription offer within an hour
