One hundred and twenty-five

The giant wall of television screens in Omary’s office were trailing the main news story of the hour – that Globalcom was about to be dismembered, its assets acquired by JFT Holdings.

Ghita was sitting on the edge of the desk when the Falcon entered.

Attired in a pinstripe business suit, charcoal grey, her hair was pulled back tight in a bun, her feet strapped into sensible shoes. She had prepared for the moment, coaxing herself to stay composed.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Falcon,’ she said in an even voice.

‘Ghita! How the hell did you get in here?!’

Harass exhaled angrily.

Glancing fast around the room, he said:

‘I’ll have security sling you out in a moment. Now, where are the documents I had left here?’

‘Is this what you are looking for?’ asked Ghita quizzically, holding up the red ledger.

Harass did a double take.

‘How did you get that?!’ he roared.

‘From a friend.’

‘Who?’

‘Let’s just say that she wears a size sixteen.’

‘Give it to me!’

‘I will. But first I want to know one thing... How did you run the underworld for so long without anyone suspecting?’

Hamza Harass stepped towards the desk. His bitter expression fortified with arrogance, he snatched the ledger from Ghita’s hand.

‘Because I own the system,’ he said. ‘I have everyone you could imagine on my payroll – the police, ministers, judges, even prison guards. They all quake in fear at the thought of me – at the thought of the Falcon.’

‘And the money you had piled up in your warehouse last night – what’s it all from?’

‘What do you mean?’ Harass glowered. ‘It’s from my business operations, of course.’

‘And which operations would those be?’

The Falcon took half a step forward. His face was inches from Ghita’s own.

‘I have a number of businesses,’ he said with a forced smile.

‘Would they by chance include gun-running, drug dealing and protection rackets?’

‘What if they do?’

‘Please answer my question.’

Harass let out a laugh.

‘How else do you expect anyone to amass proper wealth in a country such as this?’ he bellowed.

Striding back across the room, he reached for the metal handle. As he did so, Ghita called out:

‘One last thing, Mr. Harass! There’s someone who would like to speak to you.’

‘I don’t have time for conversations. The Board are waiting in the other room.’

‘Oh, but I do think you have time for this conversation.’

Right on cue, the door to the adjoining room opened, and Mimi stepped in. Like Ghita, she was dressed in a formal business suit, her face quite devoid of emotion.

‘Hello Hamza,’ she said.

‘Er... Um... Hello Mimi. What are you doing here?’

‘She wants to know why you have taken another lover,’ Ghita said.

Harass cracked his knuckles.

‘I don’t have time for this!’ he yelled.

‘You don’t have time for Mimi, you mean?’ Ghita said. ‘And what will you do with Fifi when you are sick of her – throw her out into the gutter as well?’

Mimi stepped forward.

She might have shouted something, or wept, but she was too irate. So she just stood there in silence.

Harass looked at his watch, then at his mistress.

‘You’re nauseating,’ he said. ‘Everything about you fills me with disgust!’

Ghita jerked a finger at the wall of TV screens.

As if by magic, the Falcon’s explanation from moments before was being replayed. It was followed by footage of him in the warehouse, surrounded by all the bales of money. A voice-over explained how Harass had arranged for the heroin to be stashed at Omary’s home – and that it had come from his own narcotics trafficking business.

‘You did all the work for us,’ Ghita said, motioning to a pile of black boxes. ‘I’ve never seen so many CCTV hard drives in my life.’

The Falcon’s brow beaded with sweat.

‘I’ll have them all erased,’ he said. ‘The films will never see the light of day!’

Ghita looked down at the floor modestly, then up into the eyes of the man who was so nearly her father-in-law.

‘I suppose you could do that,’ she replied. ‘Except that it just went out live on Globalcom’s news.’