“Mr. Masters has drawn our attention to a remarkable aspect of the history of Beninia, which I’d like to amplify. The legacy of colonialism there was seemingly a pleasant one. Beninia never underwent—even in the crisis years of the 1980s—agitation to expel foreigners, let alone massacres of them. Beninians seem self-confident enough to treat with anyone on terms they find acceptable. They know they need aid. They won’t reject an offer because it comes from—say—Britain, the former colonial power, or from ourselves just because this is primarily a white-skinned country. And so on.
“A feature common in the rest of Africa—greed for what richer countries can afford to give them combined with resentment of foreigners—this is absent in Beninia. This implies the solution to a major subsidiary problem posed by the project we’re considering.
“No doubt some of you are saying, ‘What experience do we have to draw on? As a country whose very formation was predicated on rejection of overseas interference, how are we going to cope with running the internal affairs of another country on another continent?’
“A very fair question—with a ready-made answer. A fund of experience exists for us to draw on, mainly in Britain but also in France. In both places there are a large number of talented executives who used to work in colonial administration and who are now marking time in other fields. Our investigations have proved that many of them would be willing to go back as advisors—I stress that, not as zecks or officials, merely as expert advisors.
“Additionally, you’ll all remember the much-lamented Peace Corps which was discontinued in 1989 as a result of the wave of xenophobia then engulfing Africa and Asia. Disillusioned, Congress abolished it as not justifying its by then colossal cost. If any of you come much into contact with young people, though, you’ll be aware that its legend survives. Working for the OAS in Chile or Bolivia is a serviceable substitute, but it doesn’t provide an adequate outlet for the available volunteers. We can pick and choose among tens of thousands of adventurous young people to staff—especially—our educational programme in Beninia.
“Financing of the project is assured. Raw materials for it are assured. As I think I’ve just shown, staffing for it is assured. I strongly urge adoption of the report.”
When he ceased he was astonished to find his heart hammering, his skin moist with perspiration.
Why, he realised with vague dismay, I’m really desperate to get this through. If they turn it down, what then?
Quit. Go to Yatakang with Donald Hogan. Anything except continue in GT. The idea was unthinkable.
He barely heard the expositions that followed his: the treasurer’s report from Hamilcar Waterford, a market preview, a psychological analysis of the major stock-holders suggesting a probable sixty-five per cent majority at a general meeting. He tuned in again on the questions, for these would foreshadow the decision of the board.
“I’d like to ask Dr. Corning why State approved Mr. Master’s approach to us, instead of setting up a consortium themselves.” That was Paula Phipps, the rather masculine senior VP in charge of commercial organics.
“The plan stands or falls on the question of raw materials,” Corning said shortly. “And no one but GT has MAMP.”
“Did the psychological analysis of our stock-holders take into account the fact that four-fifths of them are white and may object to spending so much in a black country when return on the investment will be deferred for several years?” That was Macy O’Toole, junior VP in charge of procurement, with a half-scowl at Norman.
“Return on the investment will not be deferred,” said Hamilcar Waterford. “Macy, you haven’t been listening!” A fierce snub; Norman started, because it implied that Waterford was firmly on the side of the ayes. “The anticipated proceeds from proper dredging of Port Mey, which will attract cargo that currently goes to other less favourably situated ports, are ear-marked for immediate dividends. Take another look at your briefing document, hm?”
There was a pause, no one else being eager to risk the officers’ displeasure. Old GT said, “Anyone got another question?”
Nora Reuben, senior VP in charge of electronics and communications, spoke up. “Why isn’t there a representative of the Beninian government here? I feel I’m operating in a vacuum.”
Good question. In fact, Norman decided, the only good one so far. GT was inviting Dr. Corning to handle it.
“Mr. Masters is the right person to answer this,” Corning countered, and all eyes turned to Elihu.
“Once more,” the latter said, “I have to speak more personally than you would perhaps expect. Some of you may recall the speculation that ensued when I was posted to Port Mey instead of the places that were being canvassed for me, which included Manila and Delhi. The reason I went to Beninia is simple, though. I wanted the post. Zad Obomi is a long-time friend of mine; we first met at the UN when I was attached to the American delegation as special counsellor on ex-colonial territories. When my predecessor at Port Mey retired, Zad asked for me and I accepted. He has only ever asked me one other favour, and that was very recently.
“Zad is now seventy-four years old. He’s an exhausted man. As you know, he was half-blinded in an assassination attempt, and the consequences have been psychological as well as physical.
“And a few weeks ago, he called me to his office and said this to me—I’ll try and quote him word for word.” Elihu shut his eyes and drew his brows together. “He said, ‘Forgive me for putting this burden on you, but I know of nobody else I can ask. My doctors promise me only another few years of life even if I retire. I want to leave my people a better legacy than chaos, famine and poverty. Can you tell me how?’
“Madam, there’s no need for a representative of the Beninian government. To Zadkiel Obomi the people of Beninia are his friends, practically his family, and he’s been their sole support and breadwinner ever since 1971. He’s not asking for help in the name of a government. He’s asking for a way to provide for his dependants when he dies.”
There was silence. During it, Norman found himself trying to signal telepathically to Old GT: don’t call the vote now, they didn’t understand what Elihu was saying, you’ll risk catching them while they’re unconvinced …
But GT was saying, “Unless there are further questions…? We’ll proceed to the vote. Those in favour of accepting the report from projects and planning—?”
Finger almost numb from the pressure he was applying to his own affirmative button, Norman stared at the pattern of lights on GT’s throne. Green nine-eleven-fifteen …
Made it!
He glanced at Elihu, wanting to share by an expression of jubilation the delight the verdict had provoked, and discovered that the older man was gazing at him with a wholly different look. There was a sort of fierceness in his face, as though to say: I trusted you, you’d better prove me right.
And all the implications of what had just happened came crashing down on Norman’s undefended mind.
context (14)
STORM CENTRE
Yatakang (YAT’-a-KANG), Guided Socialist Democracy of: country, SE Asia. Over 100 islands, lgst. Shongao 1790 sq. mi. Est. pop. 230,000,000. *Gongilung (4,400,000). Aluminium, bauxitte, petroleum, tea, coffee, rubber, textiles.