Chapter 100
Margaret walked cautiously up the sagging stairs, the sound of an experimental jazz quartet coming from a room at the top.
She enquired at the bar. Said she had a message for the proprietor. Well, not so much a message as an offer. Something that might allow him continued and unfettered access to the various financial opportunities a long-term situation at the Empire might represent.
She drank over-priced champagne as she waited for the message to work its way to the right man. At one point a staff door opened and several young women looked out, curious to see the well-dressed and well-spoken woman who’d arrived unannounced with such a strange message.
Mr Jones found her pouring a second glass. He sat next to her and they both watched the band.
‘There seems to be a misunderstanding,’ he said, eventually.
‘I don’t think so,’ Margaret said. ‘You got my message, and you wanted to talk to me. My understanding seems to be spot on.’
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘We’ve been getting complaints,’ she said. ‘Through various channels. Untoward goings-on at the hotel.’
‘Your message referred to a path forward,’ Mr Jones said. ‘I believe you mentioned continued and unfettered access. Which leads me to wonder what you’d want in return.’
‘Oh, I’m just here to listen to the music,’ Margaret said.
She passed a slip of paper across the table. He unfolded it, read it, and passed it back.
‘You’re with the farmer,’ he said.
‘Not really.’
‘I don’t want to see him again.’
‘He has that effect on people.’