Holy Water (20 page)

Madden takes a step back and allows Henry
’
s reply to register before laughter overtakes him.
“
You
’
re going to run a goddamn call center for a water company
here
?
In a country where for all intents and purposes the majority of the people are without potable water, you
’
re going to have employees spend their day talking about crystal-clear water from the sp
rings of. . . where did you say?”

“
Vermont.
”

“
From the lush mountains of bloody
Vur-mont
. They
’
ll spend their days talking in Galado-tinged English about its crystalline purity and their nights fretting about where they can get a few clean drops for their own parched families. Did you know, Tuhoe, that every day
diarrhea
kills hundreds in this happy little coun
try? Most under the age of five?”

“
Actually, no.
”

“
Or that one in three people here—and that
’
s a conservative estimate—has no access to safe drinking water?
”

Another shake of the head.

“
Good Christ, this is so wrong it
’
s almost beautiful.
”

“
Well, then,
”
Henry offers.
“
I
’
m sort of just getting up to speed, but perhaps I can bring this to the attention of management back in the States and figure out some way to help. A donation. Funding some wells. Distributing some . . . what did you say they were again?
”

“
LifeStraws. A three-dollar water purifier that lasts up to a month, with seven filters, a membrane basically with holes as fine as six microns, plus resin treated with iodine and activated carbon.
”

“
Wow. The LifeStraw.
”

“
Ninety-nine point nine percent effective for parasites and bacteria.
”

“
For just three dollars. Are you involved with the inventors?
”

Madden laughs again.
“
Shit, no.
”

“
Are you with a human rights organization or a regional distributor?
”

“
Hah!
”

“
Do you mind if I ask what business you
’
re in?
”

“
I
’
m in the business of business.
”

“
For instance?
”

“
For instance, if someone wanted to get into the LifeStraw business here, I could facilitate that. Also, most recently, I
’
ve become quite the
domainer
.
”

Henry blinks, shakes his head.

“
Internet domains. I hold the rights to Galado dot-com, dot-net, dot-org, plus every suffix variation on dot-Galado. Once this country opens its doors and officially embraces the Internet, these domains will be worth countless millions. A colleague of mine recently sold the domain rights to a Polynesian island nation for mid-seven figures. Right now I get money just from people typing anything Galadonian and getting the ads on the land pages.
Wanna
buy shares in it?
”

“
What else do you do?
”

Madden raises his hand to his chin.
“
Here? Well, I
’
m also in the carbon-management business. Basically that means I can broker a deal that will let your company or country pollute more by paying other countries or companies to assume your carbon debt. Unlike a Realtor, I collect fees from buyers and sellers, and of course more
often than not I
’
m the person who opens and owns those
‘
other,
’
environmentally aware companies.
”

Henry stares at Madden.
“
And I was letting you make
me
feel shitty about my corporate mission.
”

“
I was just reveling in the irony of the situation. Truth is, the only problem I have with your mission, mate, is that it
’
s for corporate rather than individual gain. I like to see individuals make a go of it.
”

“
Even if it means exploiting a third world nation?
”

“
No one
’
s breaking any laws that I
’
m aware of. Plus, screw the third world. It
’
s in the
second
world, between extreme poverty and extreme excess, that the real heat is. The real opportunities. And this place is a royal heartbeat away from joining the second world.
”

Henry scans the room. People are bowing and shaking hands, heading for the way out. Not much longer, he thinks.

“
So what
’
s your plan for setting up the call centers?
”

He stares at a pretty Galadonian woman in a Western business suit, jacket and slacks, wide-collared blue silk shirt, as he answers.
“
From what I understand, we have office space out near the spa, a small classroom building. While tech people are looking into the IT infrastructure, I
’
m to start training educated locals who can speak some English.
”

“
The Bangalore model.
”

“
Yeah. I guess that
’
s right. In fact, an Indian consultant is to join me in a
f
ew days to show me how they did it.
”

Madden laughs.

“
More irony?
”

“
An Indian teaching an American how to teach Galadonians to act like the Indians he taught to act like Americans.
”

Henry nods, allows a smile.
“
I guess that
’
s right. Any pointers?
”

On hearing the question, Madden stops smiling and rests a long, heavy arm upon Henry
’
s shoulder.
“
Obviously you
’
ve been around the block a bit, Tuhoe, or they wouldn
’
t have sent you to the likes of this place. Even so, I will give you two pieces of advice. One, do
not
get involved with the locals. The peasants
’
struggle and all that shit. Make your fortune and keep your conscience and your libido
stowed in your briefcase, because it is fruitless to try to get in the way of the unstoppable momentum of money rolling downhill.
”

“
And the second?
”
Henry asks.

“
The second? Well, actually, in your capacity, you don
’
t have to worry about the second. Oh, look. Here comes your man, Tuhoe. Your
‘
official translator.
’
And don
’
t you believe a bloody word he tells you.
”

“
That
’
s the second ?
”

Madden sighs, then lowers his voice.
“
The second piece of advice—and this is mostly for heads of state, ambassadors, and C-suite execs, not blokes like you and me, whom he could care less about—is to avoid the prince. At all costs. Not only is he bonkers, he
’
s a bloody sociopath.
”

Shug is alongside them now. He half bows at Madden, who responds with a heel click and a sort of hand-twirling salute. Henry suspects that each just told the other to fuck off without opening their mouths.

“
I was just telling Mr. Tuhoe about the many pleasures of your magical little kingdom,
”
Madden says.

Shug
’
s brow crunches as if he
’
s translating Madden
’
s words for an unseen dignitary.
“
Yes,
”
he says.
“
We have much to be thankful for in Galado, Mr. Madden. Now, if you
’
ll please excuse us, we must be going.
”

Shug escorts Henry toward the doors to the great hall.
“
Interesting man, that Mr. Madden,
”
Henry says.

Shug considers Henry as he attempts to proffer a reply, then decides not to respond at all.

In the vestibule outside the great hall they stop by another large set of windows. Shug wanders away and begins an animated conversation with a Galadonian official. Henry pulls out his small container of hand sanitizer and gives himself an unobstructed squirt. It is not raining outside, but the sky is dark for two p.m., the sun obscured by a low-hanging, unnatural blue haze. To his right, across the dull surface of the river, just behind a long procession of factories with idle smokestacks, is the escarpment of a city that does not look even remotely magical.

When Shug returns, Henry points to a squall of black flakes swirling over the meticulously terraced royal jute fields that lead to this side of the river
’
s edge.
“
Is that ash?
”

Shug shakes his head and says, unconvincingly,
“
No. That is snow. Himalayan snow.
”

“
Really? In September? So where are we off to, Shug?
”

Shug walks and Henry follows. When he catches up, Henry can see that the small, dour man has now miraculously shifted into an even lower gear of seriousness, and for the first time his smug exterior seems to have been shaken.
“
Shug?
”

Shug stops, takes a breath.
“
We are going to see the prince,
”
he finally says.
“
I have been told that the prince has specifically requested your presence.
”

~ * ~

His Royal Smallness

After Henry is frisked for a second time, an aide instructs him to
“
please be seated until the prince has completed his fitness regimen.
”
He sits and looks out upon the enormous ancient hall, which has been transformed into a glistening modern fitness center. At the far end of the hall, silhouetted against a row of floor-to-ceiling windows, Henry can detect some kind of movement, the bends and twists of distant bodies. Presumably the prince, but it is so far away Henry cannot be sure.

Dozens of large plasma monitors are mounted every ten feet or so, including a row directly in Henry
’
s line of vision. He expected some combination of the BBC, CNN, Al Jazeera, a Tokyo business report, and
Good Day Galado,
but instead it is all movies, some American—
The Dar
k
Knight, Iron Man, The Hangover, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
—but mostly, he presumes, Indian. Musicals and thrillers, fantasies and love stories, playing to the overdone bass of the house music pulsing through the room.

Unaccompanied by musical scores and dialogue, Henry thinks, the films seem diminished, rendered silly, broad pantomimes of events nothing at all like life, unless, he thinks, life is this simple, this stereotypically predictable.

A few minutes later another aide in a
gho
approaches. Henry rises and offers to shake the man
’
s hand, but the gesture is ignored.
“
You are not under any circumstance to touch the prince. This is expressly forbidden. Under no circumstances are you to ask him
anything, or speak unless spoken to, or address him as anything other than Your Majesty.
”