Soviet

The Beginning and End.....................

The conference is in fifty-eight minutes - we are bargaining with our biggest competitor for ten acres of industrial land off the coast of Mexico. This meeting could last a good few hours and that calls for a dose of caffeine and then some. I reach across my desk for the latte Hannah brought in for me earlier. Starbucks had given me a custom flask because my company seems to fund them greatly. The flask slips from my clammy hands falling onto my lap leaving a rather large vertical stain on my white shirt.

RING!! RING!!

I snatch the receiver almost yelling into it. "What!?"

"The meeting has been moved up, Mr. Dalgliesh. You now have 25 minutes to be in the conference room"

I slam down the phone, stand up and stalk towards my office door.

"HANNAH!" I call out in search of my PA.

"Coming" I hear a faint reply.

I wait for the tapping of her heels to get close enough so that her petite frame topped with stiff blonde hair and blood-red lipstick was in my view.

"Fetch me a new suit, Hannah"- I watch her eyes trail up and down as she takes in my condition-"from Georgia's. Its right next door and I don't care about the price"

After closing the door rather loudly I move towards my vast glass window. From across the street I notice a few executives standing at their windows peering out into the hectic streets of San Francisco but after seeing me some would turn away immediately to stifle a laugh or check if they had all ten fingers and toes, a few women would blush but not turn away. Talk about making a person's skin crawl.

****

Grabbing my suit jacket, I dash out the conference room door out into the hallways of Dalgliesh Holdings, Inc. Being in a closed space with 12 alcoholic oldies and stale oxygen for 4 hours does dreadful things to a person's mental state.

****

I stroll into my Heathman Hotel penthouse at 21:17 courtesy of San Francisco traffic to find Mrs. Rice seated at the breakfast bar, obviously waiting for me. I see rather hear her sigh of relief after spotting me.

"Mr. Dalgliesh. Good evening. Can I get you something to eat?"

"Yes please, Mrs. Rice."

She hands me a plate of spaghetti and I dig right in. When I'm done I dump my plate into the sink and steal away into my study - the one place on Planet Earth where I can wear boxers, slouch in my chair and colour outside the lines. Sitting at my desk I start to admire all my office's furnishings.

My book shelves have everything from Starting a Business for Dummies to The Hobbit and Honour Amongst Thieves.

RING! RING!

I fish my Blackberry out from my pockets and hit the 'answer' button.

"Dalgliesh", I say into the phone.

"Henry honey, its mommy"

"Hey, mom. What's up?"

"Just calling to check up on you. You are still coming to Argentina, right?"

"Yes, mom. I will be at the Mar del Plata at 8 AM on Friday."

"And when is Friday?"

"Tomorrow"- I pout into the phone -"I learn from the best, mom"

"Of course you do, now I have to go, your father just got home and he is a little tipsy. I love you, Chameleon"

I smile at the sound of my old nickname. "Love you too, mum"