The following Monday, an expanse of table and a dozen empty chairs divided Kok Heng and I from the team. In the middle sat an untouched pot of weak Hootens coffee. The kitchen staff had forgotten to bring cups, and despite several calls, none had arrived. Not that I cared greatly, I was hungover as death and preoccupied with the announcement I was about to deliver - Axewell had left four voicemails over the weekend reminding me about it. In one, he had proposed I expense a pot of coffee. "Something free will help them digest the bad news," he said. "Not that I expect any problems."

It was four days since my meeting with Dickie. Four days that I’d spent in an alcoholic stupor, interrupted only by irregular periods of sleep. I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d spent the time, but I had hazy memories of at least two Wanchai massages – specials with baby oil hand jobs, of course – and a party with lots of pot on Lamma Island, although I had no memory of riding any ferries. I knew it had rained the entire fucking time, though, and that I’d left dozens of slurred messages for Imelda.

Sheena, horse-faced and bucktoothed, and Sharon, square-headed and huge-eyed, whispered nervously to each other in Cantonese. Simon, fat and insolent, glared at Kok Heng. Judas, fat and spike haired, smiled thinly across the table, looking more masculine than Simon. I thought about the picture on Judas’s desk of her riding pillion on a Harley behind a leather-clad Fanny Ma. If there was any question about who was the most dangerous in the group, those pictures of Judas with my bull-dyke nemesis settled the issue with finality. Only the techie seemed devoid of worry or hostility: he was too busy pinching a large red pimple on his cheek. Alicia Wemming-Smith, of course, was absent, although it wouldn’t have surprised me if the staff had been in contact with her.

"Morning everybody," I said. "Happy Monday. Welcome to our first staff meeting. Help yourselves to some coffee – when we get cups. But if you really need to wake up, go ahead and drink straight from the pot. Ha ha."

Silence.

"Okay, ah, let’s go around the room and see what everyone did last week, just so we can catch up. Sheena?"

Stifling a giggle, Sheena said, "Go meet clients."

"Great, anything interesting?"

She shook her head.

"Awesome. Sharon?"

"Same."

"Surely, Sharon, you must have some big deals in the works."

"No."

Simon and the Techie responded in the same desultory fashion, but when it was Judas’s turn she refused to say anything.

"Judas, surely there must be something you can report," I said.

She jutted her chin at me and shook her head. Sharon, Sheena, and Simon giggled. "I do work," she grunted.

The giggling grew louder, the Techie giggled as well.

"Kok Heng?"

"Thanks boss. I had some great meetings last week, and I started work on two regional deals. This week I follow up with decision makers at Tele-Art Securities and Kingly Commodities. I am confident to meet sales target."

"Excellent," I said. He was lying, of course: the Chellarham meeting had been his only meeting the previous week – he’d told me so. Perhaps he wanted to set a good example for the team. If that was his intention, though, it didn’t seem to work: while he spoke the team forgot Judas’s wit and stared at him darkly.

"Okay, anybody have any comments? Questions?"

Nothing.

"You guys sure? Anybody want to say anything? No? Okay, let’s move along then."

I walked up to the whiteboard. I’d not prepared for the meeting and felt weak and dehydrated from all the booze. I wondered if they could smell it on my breath. "Now, guys, this is going to be a bit hard for you, but you’ll understand that it’s for the good of the joint venture. Okay, well, I’ll get right to it…you may not be too happy about this, and we certainly didn’t want to do this, but…actually, wait: I’ve got some good news first. Kok Heng, stand up."

Kok Heng scrambled out of his chair, "Yes boss!"

The Team looked perplexed: Judas’s customary smirk was replaced by a look of caution and Simon stopped rocking his chair from side to side. Kok Heng came and stood beside me. I put my arm around him - as I’d seen Cockbottom do when he’d promoted one of his editors at the last company dinner - because it seemed the corporate thing to do. "Myself and senior management are really happy with Kok Heng’s work and all the money he’s made for the company. I’m sure you’ll agree that he’s done a great job."

Dead silence, but now a certain hostility stirred under it.

"Okay guys, the big news is…" I squeezed Kok Heng’s bony shoulder; he quivered with glee "…we’ve decided to make Kok Heng acting deputy sales manager for two months. If he does a good job – and I’m sure he will – he’ll become permanent DSM."

I started clapping and so did Kok Heng. The team, however, sat motionless. Only the techie raised his hands to clap, but this was an automatic response to Kok Heng and I. When he saw the others’ stillness, he shoved his hands beneath the table.

"Congratulations, Kok Heng," I said.

"I do my best, boss," Kok Heng pumped my hand. "You can count on me."

"Good, good. Okay, big guy, have a seat, now it’s time for the really big announcement."

Kok Heng leered at the group, and then turned back to me. Just loud enough for the rest to hear, he said: "Do you want me to give the bad news, boss?"

It was tempting, but I shook my head. "No, I’ll tell them."

The team observed this exchange with great curiosity. What on earth was the bad news if the good news was the promotion of the vile Kok Heng?

"As you know," I said, "the economy isn’t doing so well, and sometimes certain sacrifices need to be made to expedite, well, profitability."

Everyone was dead still, but Kok Heng grinned and nodded.

"This wasn’t the easiest choice to make, and please know that Peter and I think all of you are doing a great job, a damn fine job. I mean, this is a great team, a strong team, but sometimes difficult decisions need to be taken and, well, I’ll be open with you…Peter wants to cut your basic pay by ten percent."

They said nothing. Dismay fell like a shroud. Then, one by one, dismay crossed the threshold into rage. First was Judas, whose eyes bulged while her mouth opened and closed like a moray eel’s; second was Simon, who crossed his fat arms and began shaking his head; third was the Techie, who blinked up at me through his glasses; and fourth were Sharon and Sheena, who, with hands held to their faces, looked to Judas in entreaty.

The only one who didn’t look on the point of exploding was Kok Heng, the DSM, to whom I’d promised the money saved from the pay cuts. He grinned and nodded to show he’d known of the cut beforehand. To drive home the point, he turned to the group and said: "Cut very good for JV, we don’t want pay cut, but us managers get paid more to make hard decisions. We must tighten budget and save money lah."

"Kok Heng, let me deal with this," I said.

Kok Heng frowned, flicked his hand in my direction, and turned to face the group; the fingers of his other hand strummed the table’s surface. "Very important to cut pay," he said.

Judas jumped up: "I resign if you cut me!"

"Be my guest," I replied evenly, I’d have loved her to resign.

"You have no right!" Simon lumbered to his feet.

"You cannot cut me!" said Judas.

Kok Heng stood and wagged his finger at them: "We are management! You must obey!"

Now the yelling began in earnest - not in English, but Chinese. I recognized some of the expressions: "Do neh loh moh!" "Cheebai!" "Pah Chu Cheng!" etc. Heartened by Simon and Judas, the others jumped up and started screaming as well, completely drowning out the newly-promoted DSM. Sheena even picked up the coffee and hurled it at Kok Heng, but it fell short, scraping the table. Kok Heng hurled it back; his arm was poor as well, but when it hit the table this time boiling liquid arced out and splattered the staff, who recoiled.

"Everybody! Relax!" I shouted.

"Fuck you listen to manager!" yelled Kok Heng.

A bit of inspiration hit me: "It was Axewell’s idea! He wanted to cut twenty! He wanted to cut twenty!"

Judas knelt and emerged with the coffee pot. Her aim was better: although it missed the target, Kok Heng’s head, it cut his collar bone a glancing blow.

"Ai yoh!" Kok Heng shrieked. Judas and Simon advanced around the table toward us.

My attempt to restore order having failed, I walked to the whiteboard - no markers - so I rushed from the room. Secretaries and consultants stood riveted around the door, from behind which emitted more cries: "Cheebai!" "Do Neh Lo Moh!" "Pa Chu Cheng!"

I rushed into the nearest cubicle. Its small female occupant cowered back as if I were a rapist intent on having my way with her. I upended a plastic cup full of pens on her desk top and seized the largest one, a thick metal monster topped by a big black cap. "I’ll be right back!"

In conference room things had deteriorated badly. Kok Heng, still yelling, but now in fear, had retreated to a corner. Judas clutched his red tourist tie in her right fist, while her left darted at his genitals. Only by squirming and twisting his narrow hips did Kok Heng avoid her blows. Just behind Judas was Simon, screwing up the courage to rush in and bash Kok Heng with the coffee pot.

Enough was enough. Despite Simon’s fat, I was much taller and outweighed him, so I seized the crook of his arm and half dragged, half threw him down the side of the room, where he crashed into Sharon and Sheena, who were gathering the courage to enter the fight. Shoving myself between Judas and Kok Heng I separated them, but it took some seconds to get Judas to let go of Kok Heng’s tie.

Everyone then stood about panting, wondering what to do next.

"Everybody," I said firmly, "Sit the fuck down, okay. Sit the fuck down. Judas, Simon – sit the fuck down. C’mon, we’re not little kids here. Everybody: Sit The Fuck Down."

Reluctantly, everyone resumed their seats – the coffee dripping from the table forced Sharon and Sheena to sit closer to Kok Heng. I went to the whiteboard and wrote Peter Wanted To Cut 20%, and then beneath it, Kok Heng and I Wanted To Give Team A 20% Raise.

"Bullshit man," Kok Heng said.

"Shut the fuck up," I said.

I let the team stare at the whiteboard before going on. "Kok Heng and I fought hard to give you guys a raise, but Peter insisted we cut pay. You people should thank me and Kok Heng it’s only ten percent, not twenty like Peter wanted."

The staff looked at each other skeptically. Judas shook her head and leaned back with her arms crossed.

"When I got my MBA," I continued, "they said there are two ways you can increase profits in hard times. The first is to cut pay and fire people; the second is to increase pay because people work harder when they’re paid more. Personally, I prefer the second way. If you reward people they’ll work harder. Peter, however, believes in cutting pay and firing people, and even though as a professional MBA I disagree with him, I have no choice but to cut pay because that’s what he wants."

"When do we get the money back?" Simon asked.

"I have no idea. As I said, I wanted to give you a twenty per cent raise, and your new DSM, Kok Heng, wanted to give you the same. It was Peter who wanted to cut twenty, and we busted him down to ten. Like I said, you people owe us."

"When will cut take place?" asked Judas.

I had no idea, for it had never occurred to me to check. "I’ve been very busy and have mislaid that detail. When do you guys get paid again?"

"Thirtieth," Simon said.

I glanced at my watch, the next day was May 30th. "Let me get back to you on that, but if the cut doesn’t show up tomorrow, you can treat the extra ten percent as a sort of special bonus, and I suggest you treat yourselves to a few drinks."

Although I’d meant this last bit to be conciliatory, the tension rose again. Not that I cared a damn about their well-being, of course. All I wanted was time to collect my $250,000 from United American, and then no more business, ever - except for sorting out that treacherous cunt Imelda. "Look, Kit Matthews will be here in two weeks. I’ll try to get him to rescind the pay cut or perhaps even give you a raise, okay? But you’ve got to help me by getting a few sales in, all right?"

"But I had two sales last week," said Simon.

"Really? That’s great, who?"

"Two consulting firms," he said. "Ponzi, Milken & Associates and Fastow Consulting."

"Why didn’t you say so before?"

"I leave forms in your in tray, but you never sign. Instead I send to Peter and he sign."

"How could I have missed them?"

"Thursday and Friday you not here, and you never do paperwork anyway."

"Next time just call my mobile, you’ve got the number." Of course, I probably wouldn’t pick up if CallerID told me Simon was calling. "Also, you can now give the day-to-day shit to Kok Heng. As a manager, he’s here to serve you, not you to serve him."

"Bullshit, man," Kok Heng muttered.

"No, Kok Heng, that isn’t how management works. Let me illustrate."

On the empty half of the whiteboard I drew an upside down triangle. At the bottom of the triangle I wrote Kit Matthews, above him Peter Axewell, above him myself, then came Kok Heng, then the team, and finally, at the wide part on top I wrote "Clients."

"At Ebbers, they say management exists to serve the client, because the client actually pays us, which makes the client everybody’s boss. This means that you as line people work for the client, and we as managers work for you." To illustrate further, I wrote "Most Important" next to Clients and "Least Important" next to Kit Matthews. I wasn’t making the chart entirely up. A year previously I’d attended a half day Card Wainright management training class, and one of the PowerPoint slides I vaguely remembered involved an upside down organization chart that had the client as the boss. I may have forgotten a few things, and perhaps my illustration got a few things wrong, but at that moment I felt very much the value-added, proactive manager.

"See, this is how things really work: the client is the most important" – I circled most important – "and Kit Matthews, the CEO, is the least important" – I circled least important.

"Then cut Kit Matthews’s pay," said Judas.

She had a point, but as far as I knew CEO compensation moved in only one direction. "Judas, the world’s not always perfect. Anyway, look guys, I’m going to try and get you a raise when Kit Matthews is here in two weeks…okay? And if nobody has any questions, I’ve got a lot to do and I need to have some private time with Kok Heng."

The team, muttering, rose and left. When Kok Heng and I were alone I asked him, "How did it go? Not bad, huh?"

"That bitch ruin my tie," he stared down at his tie, which looked as if an angry cat had been at it.

"I’ll buy you a new one. I’m just happy they’re okay with the pay cut."

"Fuck them, man. These Hongkies are a bunch of fucking cheebais. I deserve the money more."

"You’ll have to earn it. Now that you’re DSM, your first job is to deal with all that crap in my in tray. I’m too busy with major deals for all this bureaucracy shit."

Kok Heng nodded moodily, the initial joy of his promotion had worn off.

"And try not to antagonize them too much. Remember, hands off management, like me."

"But these lazy Hongkie fuckers do nothing. Singaporeans are very superior, lah."

"Yeah, but at Ebbers they say you should just let people be; they’re more entrepreneurial that way."

"Is that all?" Kok Heng rubbed his throat.

"Yeah, just sort out that fucking paperwork. Okay?"

He nodded and we rose to leave. Before I turned the lights out I realized my writing still covered the whiteboard. There were no erasers, so I left and returned the pen to the cup in the cubicle. The woman wasn’t there, and since there wasn’t an eraser on her desk, I left the mess for the next people to use the room - perhaps my stab at management theory would prove educational for them.

Back in the JV area, Kok Heng had taken the stack from my in tray to his desk. The team was nowhere to be seen. I guessed they’d gone to the canteen for one of their meetings, or perhaps just to warm up - the air conditioner seemed particularly cold.

No sooner had I sat down then the phone rang.

"Jake Stratton, good morning."

"Jake, Peter here. How did the meeting go?"

"Dude! How’s it hanging?"

Axewell drew his breath in with a hiss. "How did the meeting go?"

"Really good."

"Did you announce the pay cut? Are they satisfied?"

"Yes, they took it surprisingly well, no problem at all."

"Good, good. Ten percent?"

"Yep, ten percent."

"I tried to watch via C-Network but I couldn’t get through. They’ve started testing, you know. I can see you’re wearing a blue-tie and a white shirt, but audio isn’t available yet."

Looking up I saw a small camera on the ceiling pointed directly at me. The previous week I’d watched one of the unfriendly Dutch guys up a ladder installing the damn thing.

"That’s great, Peter."

"I see your in tray is empty, well done."

"Thanks."

The camera panned around.

"Where is the staff? I only see Kok Heng and the techie. What are those documents Kok Heng is working on?"

I wasn’t sure which question to answer. "Kok Heng’s been opening lots of accounts."

"A-ha, I’ve found the staff. They’re in the canteen talking. If only audio was operational. It would be interesting to listen in."

"They’re probably speaking Cantonese."

"Are they now? Why would they waste company time speaking Cantonese in the canteen when they should be working? I think a ten percent pay cut would inspire them to work even harder for their commissions."

"Perhaps they’re working on a sales strategy."

"The sales strategy is your job, and why would they speak Cantonese when the joint venture’s official language is English? Why? Can you tell me why?"

"Because they’re Chinese?"

"Do you think I’m naïve enough, Stratton, to believe Chinese people can’t speak English? As if they’re nothing more than a pack of ignorant chinky-chonk peasants? Are you a racist, Stratton? Mmm? You’re either a racist or you think I’m completely naïve. Which one is it? Well?"

"No but…"

"How can I monitor the staff through C-Network if they speak bloody Cantonese? Can you answer that? You have such trouble listening you probably don’t even know what language they’re speaking when they talk to you. Anyway, you’ll have to make everyone switch to English as soon as possible. How did your meeting go with Dickie?"

"Dickie?"

"Yes, Dickie. Do you remember my instructions? I know you have trouble listening, but did you, nonetheless, listen to my instructions and keep him cheap and keep him low?"

"Yeah, I offered him five thousand."

"What! He’s worth three at the most. When does he start?"

"One month from now. He wanted to visit…"

"So you’ve offered him five and given him one month off? Why don’t we all take one month off? We all deserve a vacation. We may as well have not hired him at all."

I looked up, the camera was fixed on me. I visualized Axewell, chewing his pen, slouched over glaring at the screen.

"Don’t look at me that way, Stratton."

I almost gave him the finger, but I grinned instead. Again I wondered how hard it would be to sabotage the camera.

"I’m most displeased about the way you’ve handled Dickie’s appointment. Most displeased."

I shrugged.

"And what of Alicia? C. Network tells me she’s not in the building. How did she take the pay cut?"

"She’s still missing, I think we should fire her."

"Still missing? Fire her? She’s the best bloody one you’ve got. First you tell me Chinese people can’t speak English, and now you tell me you want to fire Alicia. How one earth do you come up with such ideas?"

"She doesn’t come to the fucking office, she doesn’t return my fucking calls, and she never fucking does anything. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Give her a fucking raise?"

Axewell didn’t reply. Kok Heng, sitting with his ear cocked in my direction, turned and stared; the techie looked up from the guts of a computer.

"No need to raise your voice," Axewell said uncertainly. "The staff shouldn’t be privy to our discussions."

"Seriously, do you want me to give her a fucking raise? She’s never here. If I stop showing up will you give me a raise?"

Axewell laughed uneasily. "Don’t take things so seriously, Jake. Have a beer, relax. We’ll talk things over when I’m in town Monday. One last thing, do you have any appointments set for Kit Matthews’s trip in two weeks time?"

"No."

I heard teeth gnawing plastic. "Why haven’t you started making arrangements for his trip? Have you set up any meetings for my trip next week?"

"For your trip we have meetings," I lied. "Good meetings."

"Excellent, but you must cancel them because I’ll be spending my time with Fanny Ma sorting out this All Asia business before I fly down to Malaysia. The audit strike team should have access to the late Mister Crane’s office soon, I understand. I expect there will be a lot of material for Fanny’s red folder – and I don’t think it will be at all be positive for you."

"Yes, but…"

"I have to go, Stratton. I will see you Monday." He hung up.

Son of a bitch. Only the camera, still focusing on me, kept me from slamming down the phone. Instead I pressed the button for a new line and called Ai Lin. "United American, this is Ai Lin," she answered.

"Hey, babe. How was Canada?"

"Jake! Canada was awesome, the wedding was so beautiful!" I listened with half an ear while she rambled on in this vein for a while. "And how have things been here?" she eventually asked.

I told her about the joint venture, Peter Axewell, but not about Orson’s suicide and Fanny Ma’s investigation - the last thing I wanted to do was spook her. Finally, I got around to why I’d called: "What’s going on with Phil?"

"He’s up in China. I’m not sure when he’ll be back."

"Can we fax him the contract? I’ve already got the UserID’s and passwords ready to roll."

"He only signs things when he’s in Hong Kong, and if he hears about the JV he might want to meet you again."

"Hmmm, okay. Well see what you can do. Dinner tonight?"

"Oh, I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got a girlfriend from Canada staying with me this week. Thursday lunch okay?"

"I’d like to see you sooner, but sure. In the meantime can you find out about Phil?"

"I will, ta ta!"

Annoyed at the apparent delay at United American, I set down the phone. It all came down to Phil: just one signature, and a big fat check would be on the way to my bank account and I’d be on the way to the Philippines. It then occurred to me that I could even take off with Ai Lin’s cut – she didn’t really need the money given all her credit cards. While I considered this, the camera panned around the office and then, like a gun, returned to rest on me.

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