They called us the White Shoe Brigade. We reclaimed the water, subdivided the land, raised the high-rises, and for what? For them to insult us for our shoes? It was laughable. The pettiness of small people.
There was Bruce Small and Eddie Kornhauser, as well as Dennis Benson, Keith Williams and the Skase lad. We are the true architects of the coast, the true designers. We had help, of course. Sir Joh and the God Minister oiled the gears of government, and the banks and investors did their part. But we built the shopping centres and suburbia, the resorts and apartment buildings. We built the coast.
The only thing stopping me is age. But I struggle on, changed but also the same. One must play the hand one is dealt, and when old age arrives, bringing all its entropy and weakness, one must adjust. An old man cannot be bold in his action. He’s too slow. Instead, he has to be bold in his mind. He has to lean into his experience, his network and servants. He has to be cunning and forget niceties and grace. Those traits are for the young. The old must be shrewd and ruthless. And the good news is, people mistake the weak for the broken, the ageing for the dead. Even I am guilty of this.
Elda brings me my phone. ‘It’s him.’
I hold it to my ear.
‘It was a bit of a fucking disaster,’ says Allan.
I hand my tea to Elda. ‘Can you reheat this?’
She moves slowly, waiting for me to talk further.
I wait her out, then say to Allan, ‘I saw the papers. Poor Seth. Were there any civilian casualties?’
‘Not really. One of the guards copped it.’
‘What did you come away with?’
‘It wasn’t all it could’ve been. I’m going to need more from you. I think your share is going to have to come up.’
‘Let’s wait and see it. How did your guests react?’
‘Hard to say. You know how it is with those fellas. Even with the inner circle, you can never be sure who knows what with coppers. But fuck me, it was a bit bloody tense. We could see the bank from the back windows of the Silver Fish and, let me tell you, Sorensen didn’t look too pleased. He’s definitely got his nuts in the machinery of all this, like you said.’
The side of my face burns. I need to have the volume so loud it’s percussive in my ear. ‘And the boys?’
‘They’re rattled, but they’re okay. Seth always was the weak link. Sunny isn’t keen on slowing down any time soon. Can’t now, can they? They’re going to see it through. Weirdly enough, I think we’re okay.’
‘Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched. Anything else?’
‘Some dickhead from the minister’s office is sniffing around. Reckons he’s here to help. You don’t suppose the God Minister is coming in, do you?’
‘He does like to sit back and have others do his bidding. But he’ll be sniffing out a result rather than an investment. He’s not coming in. It’s not his style.’
‘His underling is an efficient fucker. I think he’s in bed with Colleen Vinton.’
‘That’s concerning.’
‘Yeah, it is. So what about the money? We’re coming up short.’
‘Tell Sunny there’s wiggle room, but not a lot.’
The call ends.
Elda comes back, takes the phone. ‘You need anything, sir?’
‘I’m cold.’
‘I’ll fetch a blanket.’
‘It’s the bloody medicine.’
It’s the pills and syrups and the treatments and the rest. But it’s also death. Death creeping towards me. I hate that it’s cold. In my lighter moments, I joke to myself that, after these final weeks in my medicated winter, the heat of hell will be a respite.
It’s just a joke. I know what’s coming is neither hot nor cold. Pretty soon the temperature won’t matter. Pretty soon all that will remain is my money and my bloodline, and the plans I’ve set in place.