The Museum of Things Left Behind. Seni Glaister

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СКАЧАТЬ our sights on more aggressive growth and, in the grand tradition of our forefathers, we have our eye on the bigger prize. With this in mind, following detailed discourse with our American consultant and much high-level analysis, it is my estimation that, with a successful export contract in place, we should be able to realize an export income in excess of twenty million American dollars.’

      Feraguzzi paused to allow a ripple of applause to complete its circuit. ‘There’s more,’ he continued. ‘Against a backdrop of considerable financial instability, our import portfolio has similarly remained constant at zero. However, it is our intention to continue with our policy of zero imports while simultaneously increasing our share of the export market, allowing us quickly to establish ourselves as a nation in control of one of the most impressive GDPs in the world!’ Feraguzzi stopped briefly to allow this ambitious statement to sink in.

      ‘But the good news does not stop here. I would now like to invite our American consultant into our meeting, with the permission of our esteemed president, to present to you his most recent findings.’

      With that, Angelo jumped up and threw open the double doors to allow the American consultant to enter. The American’s readiness at the door suggested he had long been prepared to be called for. He strode in alone, yet managed to convey the air of a man with an entourage in his wake. Exuding calm and confidence in his pressed chinos and neatly ironed, monogrammed shirt, he brushed past the seated ministers. Without waiting for an invitation to join them, he took the position recently vacated by Angelo, forcing the chief of staff to retire to a chair in the corner to continue with his note-taking.

      Before speaking Chuck Whylie swept a cool hand across his hair, in an unnecessary move to correct any stray locks. With a polite cough into a closed fist, to indicate that he was going to speak, he began his address.

      ‘Mr President, it is indeed an honour to join you once more. You know, sir, I have been coming to this fine country of yours for many years now and I do believe this is the twenty-fourth occasion on which I have addressed your government. Before I begin today I would like to reiterate that I am profoundly proud of our association and acutely proud of the work that we have been able to undertake together.’

      Whylie nodded encouragingly while he allowed his message to sink in, a mannerism he deployed habitually to allow the foreigners an opportunity to assimilate his words. This impersonated – pleasingly, he thought – the rhythm and flow of a speech to the United Nations, with built-in delays for multilingual dissemination. In the small, tea-scented boardroom, the attendant audience were unsure of their collective purpose during these pauses, so allowed their minds to wander far enough afield to be returned to the room shocked and confused by the next burst of speech, thus reinforcing Whylie’s misapprehension that his interludes were necessary for the assembled company.

      ‘Of course I do not act alone. My partners back at Client Opted Inc., together with the not inconsiderable team of expert advisers that have taken your country on as a special project, are truly honoured that we have been able to work so closely with you. We think of this relationship not as one between two distinct nations on opposite sides of a great ocean, or as one between buyer and seller, contractee and contracted, employer and employee, biller and billed. No, indeed, we think of ourselves as partners, as equals, and we take our shared responsibility for the economic future of your country very seriously indeed.’

      Another generous pause allowed enough time for Alix to imagine exposing the interloper as an assassin but not before he himself had taken a non-fatal bullet intended for his president.

      ‘You are, in fact, one of our top ten clients on a global basis.’ Chuck nodded, smiled, and took the small round of applause graciously. ‘And it is not without some sadness that I see this project beginning to draw to a close. But we understand, as you understand, that this separation is only possible because of our success. We never intended to leave until the job was well done, and I have an impressive set of figures in front of me that suggests the job is nearly done well.’

      Nine expectant faces stared at their American consultant. Trained on his ruddy cheeks and suspiciously immaculate manicure were the tiredly interested eyes of Dottore Rossini, the smiling, aloof eyes of Vlad Lubicic, the ebullient, excited, shining orbs of Signor Pompili, the cautious, defensive slump of Signor Cellini, the alert businesslike scrutiny of Signor Feraguzzi and the barely concealed suspicion of Alix. Civicchioni was too personally involved in the project to maintain any impartiality and held himself back from interjecting. Instead, having borrowed a pen from Angelo, he focused on scribbling notes into his margins. ‘Partners! Top Ten!’ he scrawled, emphatically ticking and underlining the praise as it was dealt. Signor Lubicic and Professore Scota were now not looking intently at the American but instead stared jealously at the laptop that Whylie now prodded to life with a few stabs of his index finger.

      ‘I would like, if I may, to give a brief résumé to contextualize our progress. More than a decade ago, when I first joined you, we were asked by the dear departed Sergio Senior to analyse your strengths and set forward a proposal that would allow you to compete in a global market. What foresight that man had! He understood immediately when Client Opted Inc. set out to explain that not only had you picked the low-hanging fruit but eaten it and forgotten to replant the pips! What we found here was, I’m going to have to admit now to you, disheartening at best.’

      Vlad used this latest pause not to be disheartened but to revisit a walk he had taken the previous night with a young woman upon his arm. He sighed and smiled to himself, already imagining the next and the many walks beyond it. Whylie resumed talking and Vlad tumbled back to earth.

      ‘Even the untrained eye could recognize that your output was simply too negligible to take to the market, and what you did have was cut so fine between your various crops that we had to wonder whether there was anything worth saving. I, of course, was much too young to express it – hey, I was practically in short trousers – but, let’s face it, my boss and your previous president, they spoke the same language. You were nothing more than bit players. A bit of this and a bit of that.’

      He stopped to allow his audience to catch up. Dottore Rossini used the break to do a mental walk-through of his hospital, wondering whether he might be able to call in for a quick ward-round between this meeting and his siesta. If the American consultant could just talk a little faster, with a touch more fluency, they would all get out of the Special Furthering of Agricultural Development Committee meeting sooner and achieve more in all of their respective roles, not just those of an agricultural nature. But the doctor had long worried about the American consultant’s mental health and knew he should set an example by being as patient and generous with him as he could.

      Chuck Whylie, having punctuated one of his uncomfortably long silences with a round of nodding, returned to his soliloquy, having sufficiently damaged any momentum his talk might have gained. He took to his feet and banged his fist on the table to emphasize his point and elicit greater engagement from those whose eyes were politely trained on him. ‘The thing is, gentlemen, you simply had nothing substantial to take to the world stage with any credibility at all. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to stand here in front of you and knock the great effort you made. You had a …’ he sought the right word ‘… an interesting assortment of produce, some of which might have found a niche market, if anyone else had known what on earth it was!’ He laughed alone, so quickly continued: ‘It was then that we set about maximizing your potential. Together, our goal was to plant three thousand hectares of a single crop with commercial prospects. At that time, with a total landmass of 3672 hectares, you had just fourteen hundred given to tea plantation, yet that was the crop you recognized as your core strength, a national symbol no less! But your output was here,’ he stretched out his left hand, ‘and if we could establish a market with a USP that was going to really give us something to work with, the demand was going to be here.’ His right hand reached considerably higher. ‘And, boy, were those two numbers a long way apart.’

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