08.03.2008 / EP. 28
A Deal
Milly had an inkling now why they’d ended up talking in this room. All entranceswere linked to a sensitive alarm. An entry would be hard to conceal. No onecould install listening devices. The walls and windows were reinforced. If Pamwanted a private spot to strike a deal with Milly, this was far from the worst. AndMilly would feel comfortable on her own terrain. The prospects for successfulnegotiations would be good, very good. Milly had to admire Pam’s planning. IfMilly wanted a partner, she wouldn’t find better.
Pam continued: “We need a profit ratio. We can expand our businesses, but ourrelative size has to stay the same.”
“Or what?”
“War.”
Milly considered. “We really need to know whether we’re cutting into each other’sbusiness.”
“Think of it as market share. And we help each other on demand to maintain it.You may need help one month, me the next. What comes around goes around. Isuggest a 70:30 ratio of gross profits. In my favour, because I’ll provide thepolitical protection we need and my construction company is our legitimate cover.If you take more than 30% of gross drug profits, all bets are off. You can reserveyour burial plot. Or would you like to be embalmed in one of these jars?”
They settled at 55:45, Milly pretending a vehemence she didn’t feel. She arguedto lend the deal credibility. But she knew the arrangement wouldn’t last. Thevoice that gave Milly her orders couldn’t abide limits. Milly would present the ratioas Pam’s demand, not something Milly endorsed.
Pam paced the room with foreboding. She was forgetting something important.The dolls’ expressions reflected the moral strength, frivolity, optimism, or despairof the eras when they were created. Our own faces are rooted in history, thoughtPam. Fix us in amber and fifty years on we’ll look as quaint as these dolls. In ahundred, even historians won’t understand what robbed us of sleep or moved usto tears. Did children mimic their dolls more than dolls imitated children? “How doyou stand the dead air in here?” Pam asked.
“The air is for the dolls,” said Milly.
“The rest of your house reminds me of a convent: furniture polish, lavender andstarch. Did you like the nuns when you were small?”
The telephone rang and continued ringing. “Aren’t you going to answer?” Pamasked.
“Not in here. This is where I make decisions.”"Why?”"It’s restful.”"Dead, more like.”"Those conditions aren’t dissimilar.” The landline stopped. Milly’s cell started.She didn’t answer that either.There was something about Milly and the telephone, Pam thought. She’d find a way to exploit it. “Should we tell Carrie about the money I left in your office?”
Carrie was setting obstacles in the way of the police. They decided to tell her asa reward.”This whole sequence of events is a warning,” said Pam. “Someone breaks into your house; you don’t know till the doll turns up. Someone kills, steals a largeamount of cash, and nobody knows anything. If not a warning, then a demo.”"Terrific, I’m impressed,” Milly said. “But why go to the trouble?”
“What if we get a note one day, asking for a favour? Or else.”I’d ask if the note’s from you, Milly said to herself. She was overcome withfatigue.
“I’ll see myself out,” said Pam. “Keep me posted. Call me tomorrow.”Milly nodded, though she didn’t understand what information Pam wanted. Hercell rang again. “Answer it this time,” Pam admonished. She left the room, butdidn’t let the latch drop. Milly’s voice carried. Afterwards, Milly slept fitfully. Shewoke disoriented, her memory an ill-assembled patchwork quilt with strangeholes. She’d slept on the floor of the dolls’ room. Memory returned in a flood.This was the third day after the wedding, and she hadn’t seen her husband sincethe ceremony. She groaned and clasped her hands to her head.
