FRAMED ALBUM COVERS ADORNED THE WALLS OF the jazz bar. The stage was empty except for a bent microphone leaning toward an unoccupied chair, and a saxophone gleaming in the low light. The speakers hummed Coltrane to a small Tuesday crowd, although the only thing Theo could hear in his ears was the bloodcurdling scream from that morning.
In his last job at Alpha Capital, he’d seen colleagues thrown under a bus. But that was just a figure of speech. What happened that morning was real.
He had witnessed someone die.
He gulped down the whisky—his first since Halloween. The flames from the single malt spread to his throat and nose. He winced.
I’m out.
He’d tell Mara when he saw her next. No doubt she’d be pleased to hear it, he concluded cynically.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a familiar voice.
“Theo, is that you?”
Walter stood before him, cutting a dapper figure in a creaseless grey suit.
“It is you. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your costume.” Theo’s former client chuckled. “So when are we going to see more videos? I’m enjoying them rather a lot.”
“No more videos. I’m done with that shit.” Theo clenched his fist.
Walter gave him a searching look. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down. The low light shone on his salt-and-pepper mane and cast deep shadows across his face.
“Were you in the riots?” he enquired.
“It was meant to be peaceful. Everything was fine … until the police showed up.” Theo grimaced at the rush of memories.
“I’m sorry. To be honest with you, I didn’t think your dalliance with the protest group was going to last. You’re too much of a conformist for that sort of thing.”
“I am, indeed,” Theo said mournfully. “Tell me, how are things with you? Who’s your new portfolio manager? I hope it’s Nick.”
“I wouldn’t know. I quit a few weeks ago.”
Theo looked at him. “Wow. That’s big news. I thought you were being groomed for the top job.”
“So did my bosses. But I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Can you tell me what it is?” Theo asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Walter studied him with his sharp, grey eyes.
“What I’m about to tell you is top secret, you understand?” he said, lowering his voice.
“The Hague,” Walter whispered.
Theo gaped.
Holy crap. Walter, a cabinet minister. It wasn’t something Theo had seen coming, although in hindsight, it made perfect sense. You could drop a pencil on Walter’s family tree and chances were, it would land on someone noteworthy. His great-grandfather was an explorer who set up coffee plantations all over Indonesia. His grandfather was a resistance fighter who proudly wore Gestapo-inflicted scars. His mother came from a long line of industrialists and philanthropists who built railways and steel plants all over the continent. The only person to buck this trend was his father, who was driven to alcohol, perhaps from the weight of all the expectation. But that seemed like a temporary aberration, as Walter appeared set to restore the family tradition of overachievement.
“Well, that is an offer you can’t refuse. Congratulations!” Theo said, forcing a smile. “So how—when did it all happen?”
“I met the PM at a fundraiser last year. For some reason, she took a shine to me. Maybe because I spoke my mind freely. As an outsider, I suspect my opinions were refreshing. So we kept in contact. The great thing about our political system, as you know, is that you don’t need to be an elected official to be in the cabinet. A few months ago, the PM was grumbling about the state of the economy. I said to her, ‘Why don’t you fire your finance minister and give me the job?’ Didn’t realize she was actually going to do it.” Walter chuckled. “Now that I’ve shot my big mouth off, I’d better deliver.”
“So when can I tell everyone that I know the finance minister of the Netherlands?”
“I’m being sworn in later this week. Over the next few months, I’ll be putting a team together. People I can trust. I was hoping you’d be one of them.”
Theo raised an eyebrow.
“You’re offering me a job?”
“It’s not a job yet. But there will be one soon.”
“I’m flattered,” Theo said. Flattered? How about thrilled? All his problems solved in one shot. But it was impossible to feel anything with that godawful scream in his ears.
THE LAKE SHONE brightly in the noon sun. Theo shaded his eyes and watched a family of ducks waddling under a willow’s drooping branches. At the other end of the bench, Mara stared blankly at a group of people being tortured by their personal trainers. The corners of her mouth were turned down, eyes pouched.
“It was Emma,” she croaked, as if she’d just smoked an entire packet of cigarettes. “It’s her birthday today. She was going to turn twenty.”
Theo swallowed. He remembered the girl: red hair, awkward lisp.
“It’s my fault.” Mara’s cheeks flushed. She looked like she was about to burst into tears, but next moment, she drew herself erect.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, although privately he held her responsible for ignoring his oft-repeated warnings about Viktor. While the rest of the group dismissed him as a truant child, Theo had always known him to be a bomb waiting to go off. Sure enough, he did.
“As the leader, I have to assume responsibility for what happened. I’ve called a meeting of the elders,” she said. “To resign and propose you as the head of the group.”
“Me?”
“You’re calm. You’re organized, strategic. You’ll make a better leader than me.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve been offered a job.”
She slanted an eyebrow. “What job?”
“I can’t talk about it. All I can say is that it comes with a salary and doesn’t involve run-ins with the riot police.”
“So that’s it? First sign of trouble and you want to run? Viktor was right. You’re not one of us. You were never one of us. What are you waiting for? Go. Go back to your ivory tower,” she spat, the same way a skinhead would say, “Paki, go home.”
At first, he was a little taken aback by the vehemence. Then he accepted it with a stoic nod. She’d come to wash her guilt. Quitting was her absolution and he wasn’t permitting her to have it.
“As you wish,” he said, and rose from the bench.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to give you this,” she said as he turned to leave. Her outstretched hand contained an advertising brochure, rolled into a tube.
“Go on,” she goaded. “I think you’ll enjoy reading it.”
He took it from her and unrolled it. The front cover featured a night sky with a headline in reverse type:
“ARE YOU READY TO DIE?”
He opened the leaflet to read the inside pages:
There was a time when people asked what was a good age to retire. Perhaps a more appropriate question now would be, what’s a good age to die? The answer to both is the same: when you’ve got enough money. Unlike retirement, of course, the time and circumstances of our death are beyond our control. But assuming you live a normal life span and die of natural causes, how do you make sure you’re financially prepared?
START EARLY
When it comes to saving for your afterlife, time and compound interest are your best friends. To give you an example, a person who invests €5,000 annually from the age of twenty-five will have nearly €1.1 million at sixty-five (assuming a 7% annual return). In comparison, a person investing €5,000 between thirty-five and sixty-five will have around €510,000. So don’t wait until it’s too late. Start today.
Switch to direct debit.
Forced saving is the best saving. The sum of money you need to put away each month will vary depending on your circumstances, but we recommend setting aside at least 20 to 30% of your wages for your afterlife nest egg.
WORK LONGER.
When you stop working, you stop earning, and the longer you live, the less you have for your afterlife. Consider postponing your retirement. Or work part-time to supplement your pension payments so you’re not dipping into your afterlife fund …
He stopped reading and looked up.
“Do I really have to?”
“The last paragraph,” she said. “Read the last paragraph.”
He sighed and turned to the back page:
PRIORITIZE.
Life is short. Afterlife isn’t. Look at every expense through this lens. Is it smart to spend hundreds of thousands of euro on a dream home when someone else will inherit it? Similarly, is fifty grand better spent on a flashy sports car or something more long-lasting? A bit of retail therapy is fine, but does it make more sense to hold off splurging just a little bit …
Theo looked at Mara. “Where the hell did you get this?”
“From a financial planner. They’re handing these out at the bank.”
“Do you know what this means? Do you have any idea?” His voice shook.
She smiled. “Of course. Why do you think I gave it to you?”