How to Betray Your Country by James Wolff (pocket ebook reader txt) 📗

hours, the way the candidates all saw the opposition as a new economic sector capable of providing them with a secure, long-term career.

“Welcome to Endgame Consulting,” said August, picking up a CV from the pile in front of him. “Shall I explain what we’re looking for?”

Youssef nodded vigorously and adjusted his tie. He was in his late thirties, with pale-brown eyes, stiff upright black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He might have been considered handsome, but there was something about his long neck and the gaps that appeared between his teeth when he smiled which had the effect of knocking that perception off by a few degrees.

“We’re looking for a project manager,” August said. “What that means, in this case, is someone to set up a new media centre. It’s a pretty big task. We’ll need to choose a suitable location, negotiate with the landlord, get the necessary building and decoration work done, source technical equipment and coordinate the logistics of moving people in. Does that all make sense?” Reading from the notes Beatrice had given him, he added: “The successful candidate must demonstrate an understanding of the technical aspects of setting up a recording studio as well as a proven track record of meeting deadlines, managing a budget, working as part of a team and overcoming obstacles.”

“Yes, I can do all of these things,” said Youssef.

“It says on your CV that you were an English teacher in a school.”

“Ah, this is the wrong CV. I have a better one.”

“What do you mean?” asked August.

“More suitable for this position.”

“A man after my own heart. So what did you do?”

“My job was project manager.”

“That’s handy. So you weren’t a teacher?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me about the project manager job you did?”

“Well, it was a very busy job.” He paused to see whether this would be enough. “Very, very busy. With lots of responsibility. A staff of many people, perhaps twenty or thirty or possibly many more. My goodness, they admired me very much.” Youssef leaned back in his chair and chuckled to buy himself some time, a panicked look in his pale eyes. He ran a trembling hand over his threadbare beard. “I started early each morning with a positive mental attitude, took no more than ten minutes for my lunch, and I would work late in the evening, sometimes until six o’clock. Tireless. There was plenty of visiting locations, choosing, logistics, technical equipment, decoration – all these things you mentioned. In particular I am very good at decoration.”

“What was the project?”

“The project?”

“What were you doing all that work for?”

“For a very successful company.”

“That’s good to hear. But what was the project, what specifically were you working on?”

“Many, many things. Big projects, small projects.” He swung his hands together and apart as though playing an accordion. “All of them successful.”

“Any experience of film in all that successful work?”

“My goodness. Extensive.”

“Such as?” August asked.

“Action, thrillers, detective. These are my favourites.”

“What I mean is, have you made any films?”

Beatrice appeared in the doorway. Ignoring Youssef, who had leaped to his feet and extended his hand, she said, “Larry has just called to say he’s on his way in to discuss the proposal for the hive. He must have flown in from Ankara this morning. He tells me you two know each other. Why didn’t you mention that? It could be useful to us that you’re an old friend of his.”

So Larry was Lawrence. August shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d use those words to describe our relationship.”

“We might have to make this one of your objectives. It’s Larry’s job to advise his seniors on whether to renew our contract, so having the inside track could be very valuable indeed. Don’t pull a face, August. All sorts of people become friends overseas who wouldn’t go within a hundred metres of each other back home.”

“I can’t imagine he’d be particularly keen on the idea.”

“Well, that just goes to show how wrong you can be. He was surprised to hear that you’re out here but said he’s looking forward to catching up. He’s probably a bit lonely. Is he single too? Get in there before he finds a girlfriend on the diplomatic circuit. Two young bachelors on the prowl. I’ll even let you expense it, as long as you deliver results.”

Youssef finally withdrew his hand. Beatrice looked him up and down and frowned slightly when she saw the Playboy pattern on his tie. Turning to August, she said, “You can probably cut this one short. No point wasting anyone’s time. Do you want to pop into my office in, shall we say, ten minutes? Play it smart – nice to see you, Larry, you’re looking well, let’s go out for a drink. That sort of thing. Don’t let me down.”

She closed the door. Youssef took a packet of cigarettes from the side pocket of his tweed jacket. “Do you mind if I have one before I go?” he asked. “It has been a very long day.”

“Fine with me,” August said.

They both sat down.

“I guess she’s not a fan of Playboy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your tie.”

Youssef looked confused. “What about my tie?”

“I don’t have a problem with it. In fact, I’ve written in my notes, ‘evidence of a non-extremist mindset’.”

Youssef lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. He looked thoughtful. “Why don’t you like Larry?” he asked.

Putting the evidence to one side (a broken nose, three cracked ribs and a dislocated left shoulder), August would have said it was the other way around, that Lawrence didn’t like him. It had been an unexpected end to the disciplinary hearing. Just nine weeks earlier but already it felt like a lifetime ago. August had been content enough to sit through the case against him, despite the theatricality of Lawrence’s style and the number of inaccuracies. After all, the verdict had never been in doubt – there was no way they could keep him on, despite the patchiness of the evidence. In fact it had struck him as appropriate, given the nature of