“Yes, that’s right, Mr. Beckford. That’s all I’d like you to order for me. I don’t usually eat a heavy dinner. I sleep better with a light stomach, you know?”
Beckford’s intention, however, had been to eat well and plenty this evening, as an excuse to extend the date as long as possible. He was hoping that with the help of some good wine he could maneuver the conversation to the only thing he was interested in, the only thing that had convinced him to suffer through the horrendous film.
Thinking of the movie, as Amy was slowly nibbling on her sandwich and he was poking at his steak, he said: “Do you have a past, Miss Amy?”
“A past? I have several, Mr. Beckford. And all of them with excellent references. You can check out each of my pasts easily. I could go back to any office where I have ever worked and I would be hired with a raise immediately.”
Checkmate, Beckford said to himself, miserable checkmate. Is she making fun of me or is she really so stupid that she does not understand what I mean with “past”? Aloud, he said: “I mean a different kind of past, Miss Amy.”
“Oh, now I understand. You want to know about my childhood and my family.”
She looked at him naively as she said this.
“My father owns a hardware store in Eldersville, Kansas, where I was born. And here in New York, I lived with my aunt at first while I was attending vocational school. Now I live in a small, modest apartment: it has a tiny comfortable living room, a bedroom, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. That’s about all I can report about my past and my present.”
“It appears then,” said Beckford with a fake laugh, “that you aren’t particularly troubled by your past.”
“That’s right, Mr. Beckford. I’m pretty happy with my life right now.”
How wrong you were, Beckford thought, but in the office this afternoon, when I invited her, she was talking as if she couldn’t wait for me to have her.
He said now: “Miss Amy, I hope we will work together for a long time. What we need in our business is a secretary like you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beckford, thank you. Did you know that I am also studying French now? I already learned Spanish in high school.”
“Excellent. That is indeed excellent, Miss Amy. With those language skills you will be of great use in our business.”
“I hope so, Mr. Beckford.”
Half an hour later, Beckford took her home in a taxi. At her door, he made one last effort.
“Don’t you want to invite me up for a cup of coffee, since, as you said, your home is so comfortable, Miss Amy?”
“I am terribly sorry, Mr. Beckford, but it has gotten pretty late. I get up very early to be at the office at nine o’clock sharp, as you know.”
“Well, since I am your boss—okay, tomorrow you can come in at one o’clock—because you will invite me to coffee now, Miss Amy.”
“No to coffee and no to the coffee. My job starts at nine.”
“But you have noticed that nothing important is happening at the office, I assume?”
“My work begins at nine, Mr. Beckford,” Amy answered stubbornly, “and thank you for an enjoyable evening. It really was very entertaining, you know, because I go out so rarely. Again, thank you so much.”
She held out her hand. Beckford attempted a lukewarm hug so he could kiss her, but she pushed her key in firmly and slid through the door into the house like an eel. Then she pulled the door quickly and energetically shut.
Beckford hailed an approaching taxi and rode to a nightclub where he found what he urgently needed within half an hour.
When he got back to his hotel late that night and counted his money he said to himself: “Goddamn it, this was quite an expensive evening.”
Sitting down on his bed, he continued to make calculations, including taxis and tips.
Well, I have to admit that was almost a hundred dollars if I include all the little things. And whose fault is that, damn it? Amy’s, of course. If she had invited me for coffee into her virginal—well, let’s say more or less virginal—home, I would have probably, actually most certainly, saved a nice little heap of beautiful, kissable dollar bills. Of course: That is today. Only today. Because Amy’s cup of coffee from last night would have most certainly turned into the most expensive cup of coffee anyone had ever heard of. The moral of the story: The earlier you start saving, the more likely it is that you will die a rich man one day. You have to spend money at the right time, wherever it’s most useful and when it’s good for your soul at the same time. If I look at it from this perspective, I have to admit: Today’s expense, while it hurts, was my first step on the road to being more frugal. So help me God!
9.
Indonesia’s government was planning to build a wide network of modern airports, and they sought out well-known companies in Japan, England, Holland, and the United States for this purpose. Holved submitted plans and cost projections. His proposed budget was seven and a half percent higher than that presented by the Japanese firm. It was also higher than that of the companies from the other two countries. Nevertheless, Indonesia signed with his company. They did not do so because they loved the U.S. in particular, but simply because they hated the other countries more.
In addition, Holved was able to provide Indonesia with longer-term credit. He was also willing to offset a significant amount of the cost by accepting Indonesian products. Holved succeeded in convincing the Indonesian experts that his company had longer and better experience with such ventures. They would complete the entire project in a shorter time than any of the competing companies, and he would personally guarantee the excellent and durable quality of the building materials they would use.
However, this meant that he was several times forced to spend six or eight weeks on various Indonesian islands during construction. He personally supervised the execution of the work, which seemed necessary since he had promised to employ only local engineers, technicians, mechanics, and workers as much as possible.
He was in New York today, planning to fly to Jakarta on Wednesday. It was now Sunday afternoon. He wanted to spend this last Sunday before his departure in comfort with Aslan. He meant to talk to her in peace and quiet about the sorts of things that could occur while he was gone.
“In many ways it is regrettable,” he said during their conversation, “that I have to be so far away at this moment. I assure you, as soon as you announce—and you should do it earlier rather than later—that the APTC plans to build a canal across the North American continent, you will be caught in the worst kind of maelstrom.”
“I am prepared and don’t expect anything less,” said Aslan as she was drinking her coffee.
“Most likely you will have Congress and the Senate jumping down your throat. You better believe it!”
“I think I can handle the Senate, when things get really sticky.”
“I like that. Don’t let them get you. Hit them back every time if they try to wear you down. I’ve gone through stuff like this.”
“I believe you. Java, Kalimantan, Sumatra, Celebes, and who knows what all those islands are called—when you are on those islands, there will come a day when you are in so much trouble that you will be wishing you were dealing with the Senate in Washington.”
“That’s possible, very possible. I will be happy if I return with my nerves somewhat intact.”
“Indonesia is much more civilized than most Americans usually believe.”
“You are right. Their society is two or three thousand years old. And what the people have done since their independence is more than they could achieve in sixty years under Dutch colonial rule.”