Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
Mathias parked the car on the street and glanced at his watch.
Right on time. When he’d contacted the mayor’s office to request an appointment, he’d done so as a valued member of the Calais business community.
While Durand’s concern for the thousands of displaced people crowding his city was questionable, he made sure the corporate suits he hoped would bankroll his upcoming election campaign received his full attention.
And as of yesterday, Mathias sat squarely in that demographic.
Heylen had sent through the completed paperwork, and Mathias was now joint owner of a two-billion-euro container-shipping business headed for the Port of Calais.
Mathias walked past groups of photo-snapping tourists milling about outside the town hall. He scaled the steps to the building and strode into the lobby, where he cleared security and made his way upstairs to Durand’s office.
The mayor’s assistant greeted him with a bright smile. “Good morning, Mr. Beauvais. Go on through. He’s expecting you.”
Mathias pushed open the set of wooden doors at the end of the corridor and stepped into the office. Durand stood from behind his desk and moved to shake his hand.
“Mathias. Always happy to make time for a hardworking party supporter.”
Early on, Mathias had established himself as a generous donor to Durand’s affiliated party, Alliance Nationale. He’d found that front-loading favors worked best to engender credibility. It paid to be the person owed and not the other way around.
Mathias took a seat across from the mayor’s desk as Durand lowered himself into his plush leather chair. “What can I help you with today?” Durand asked.
“I believe the council has been approached about the construction of a migrant residential complex.”
The mayor made a face. “Don’t worry—you’re not the only concerned member of the public who’s come forward. I made sure to shut down that idea pretty quick.”
“Did you?”
“What would the rest of the country think if we were seen to roll out the welcome mat for these people?”
If the man’s worried about the city’s image, perhaps he should look outside his window.
“That’s a shame,” Mathias said. “I’m here to make you change your mind.”
Durand began to laugh, glancing at Mathias as if to see if he would do the same, but Mathias remained impassive. He took a nervous sip from his steaming mug of coffee and placed it back down on the desk.
“You can’t be serious, Mathias.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“The council vetoed the proposal. It’s a nonstarter.”
“Have you walked through the city recently? The camp isn’t even closed yet, and there are people on every corner. What do you think Calais will look like when you bulldoze the rest?”
“There’s no way we’d get public approval to fund something like that. Residents are tired of their hard-earned tax dollars being wasted on this problem.”
“This problem isn’t going to go away just because the people of the city are sick of it.
” Mathias leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been informed that the remaining funding has already been secured.
As it turns out, the activities of our little city have caught the attention of several Good Samaritans abroad. ”
Durand gave a disapproving grunt. “Oh?”
“It’s an embarrassment, really, having to rely on foreigners to solve our problems,” Mathias went on. “What would make the situation even more embarrassing is if the local council was seen to be blocking much-needed humanitarian efforts.”
The mayor’s mouth flattened into a thin line.
“So, now that funding is no longer an issue, we can expect the project to be treated like any other build. The council doesn’t have to pledge its support.
You can remain as indifferent as you want, but when planning applications begin to trickle in, I’m sure they’ll make it through without delay.
” Mathias reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He placed one between his lips.
“I’m afraid you can’t smoke in here,” Durand said.
Mathias brought the flame from his lighter to the tip of the cigarette and waited for it to catch.
The mayor shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at, Mr. Beauvais. Perhaps it’s better if—”
“I’ve already told you. Regardless of your views on its intended use, you will make sure the building is approved for construction. That’s all. As for the hardliners, you can handle a few complaints. You’re no stranger to them, after all.”
The mayor shook his head. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“You’re not sure?” Mathias took a pull on his cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke into the air between them.
“But you’re aware of Joseph Fillon, owner of the Mermaid?
I heard he got planning approval for his expansion into the building next door.
Now, Fillon has twenty-odd girls on his payroll, and you and I both know they’re doing more than dancing.
I don’t see the council getting worked up about the nature of that particular establishment. ”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Beauvais. But as mayor, it’s my job to have the city’s best interests at heart. And giving these people a reason to stay in Calais is not in its best interests.”
Mathias studied the man’s pensive expression. Durand sat forward in his chair, a sheen of perspiration visible along his hairline.
“Remind me, who is it you’re running against this year—Gérald Dupuis? He’s quite the popular candidate. A Socialist Party supporter, very progressive. It would be difficult, wouldn’t it, if his campaign received sizable financial backing?”
Durand paled.
“It was only by a thin margin that you won the last runoff. Money makes all the difference in a close race like that. And it so happens I’m looking to bring a substantial amount to Calais.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re familiar with Jacob Heylen.”
“The Belgian billionaire? Isn’t he big in the container-shipping market?”
“That’s right. I can give you the numbers—the kind of revenue a company like his brings to the local economy—but I’m sure you have a fair idea. He’s recently acquired a new business that he’d like me to run from here.”
The mayor’s eyes lit up. “Heylen is looking to open a branch in Calais?”
“Unless I convince him otherwise.” Mathias held up his cigarette in demonstration. “I don’t like being told no, Durand. And if I feel the city isn’t overly accommodating to the needs of its business community, I may find myself backing another candidate.”
Durand’s forehead creased with confusion. “Why do you care about what happens to these people?”
Mathias shrugged. “Like you, Mayor, I simply want what’s best for the city. But I’m less concerned with politics than I am with solutions. And what I see on the streets of Calais is not a good look for prospective investors.”
Durand’s expression turned contemplative. “If someone like Jacob Heylen is considering setting up shop here, that would be an enormous opportunity for a place like Calais.”
“The least we can do is make a decent impression.”
The mayor fell silent, his fingers idly tapping against the edge of the desk.
Then he licked his lips. “Like you said, a fully funded proposal is an entirely different story. I’m sure the council would be open to reassessing the merits of a residential housing complex that doesn’t require any capital investment on our part.
After all, it would be in the city’s interest to have a means to deal with this particular issue.
” He shot Mathias a complicit look and lowered his voice.
“That is, assuming I can rely on your continued support.”
Mathias gave a slow smile. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
He took one last drag on his cigarette then leaned forward and dropped it—still smoking—into the mayor’s coffee.