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Henry's car bounced its way across the potholes on the road leading out of Kolin. They crossed the bridge across the almost dry river bed of the Kolin River and headed out through scrubby rocky countryside.
The car stopped outside a large, low, seemingly derelict building. A honk of the car's horn brought someone to the tall door that filled a high archway halfway along the front wall. Henry peered out of the car. This didn't look very impressive for someone that was supposedly a Kushtian Council Elder. He climbed out and headed to the door.
As he entered, his opinion changed. The doorway gave onto a courtyard that, in contrast to the barren land outside, was filled with luxuriant foliage. Water played from fountains in the corners of the courtyard. Two veiled women sat chatting on a bench to one side; two others were carrying large baskets of fruit across the courtyard. Henry's bemusement at the extraordinary difference between the courtyard inside and the countryside outside the walls of the building was interrupted by the muscular young Kushtian man that had opened the door. “For Mr Koresh? From the bank?” he said.
Henry nodded and the young man led the way further into the building. The verdant greens of the courtyard gave way to opulent gold silk and purple velvet wall hangings and finely knotted silk carpets inside. Henry was astonished by the sheer luxury of the surroundings. His mouth was still hanging open when he was shown into a large room furnished in even greater splendour. At one end of the room an old wizened man sat in a wheel chair, gazing vacantly across the room. To the side, on two large padded leather couches, two women reclined, talking to one another in animated fashion. Henry recognised one of them immediately as the woman he had seen earlier on the cover of Yassi! Magazine. The other, much younger, he took to be Koresh's wife. She got up and approached him, her long skirt brushing across the floor.
Henry offered his hand. “Henry Clegg,” he said. “from the People's Bank.”
Koresh's wife and the woman from Yassi! exchanged puzzled glances but then waved him towards their couch. “Hi,” the woman said in a sharp Brooklyn accent, “I'm Lauren - wife of Kushnati Koresh. My friend here is the wife of the eldest son of the Kalinin. He calls her Victoria.”
“I can see why,” Henry said, conscious that she was watching him closely. “I understand that your husband wishes to discuss some financial matters.” Henry looked across to where Kushnati Koresh was sitting in his wheelchair. He didn't look as if he was up to discussing anything much.
“Of course,” said Lauren. “I will bring him over. I shall need to translate for you.” She walked across to where Kushnati sat, unlocked the brake on his chair and wheeled him back to where Henry was sitting. He stood up and offered his hand. Kushnati Koresh continued to stare straight ahead giving no sign that he had any awareness of Henry's presence. “I will explain things,” said Lauren. “but first, tell me, Clegg isn't a very common English name is it? Do you know a Freddie Clegg? A dark haired man with a wiry moustache.”
“Well yes. It's not a common name. Freddie Clegg is my uncle. That sounds exactly like him. How do you know him?”
“Ah - both Victoria and I had some involvement with one of his companies before we came to Kushtia.”
“I'll mention it when I talk to him next,” said Henry sociably.
“Oh, I shouldn't think he'd remember us,” Victoria said acidly.
Henry blinked, puzzled by her response. He knew Freddie had some dealings with the Kushtian’s but why these two women should have been involved he couldn’t imagine. Lauren interrupted. “Can we get on?” Henry nodded. “OK, here's the pitch. Mr Koresh here has very good contacts with the elders of the tribes in the northern hills. For many years they chose their wives from Russian stock. Recently they have found it difficult to find wives. Through my father in the Trade Ministry I have found how I can solve that. What is need is funding to allow us to satisfy that need; finance for the initial expenses until we can recoup them from our fees.”
Henry was bemused. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I'm not sure if I've got this straight. These elders will pay you to find them wives? Oh, I'm sorry I should be talking to your husband, shouldn't I?”
“Of course,” said Lauren, “everyone knows that a Kushtian woman cannot borrow money.” Even so Kushnati Koresh showed little sign of understanding what was going on. “But yes, you're right. They'll pay a premium because of my husband. He is well respected. They will feel his choice guarantees a good wife.”
“A premium brand?”
“Precisely.”
“So you'd be running a sort of marriage brokers.”
“Sort of.”
“And is it easy to persuade Russian girls that there is a good life to be had in Kushtia?”
“Easy enough. But that will be what we're doing.” She pointed to herself and Victoria. Henry wasn't at all sure how Kushnati could contribute anything to the business. He was lolling limply in his chair, dribbling from one corner of his mouth.
Henry quizzed Lauren on the funding required. She made a pretence of consulting her apparently unhearing husband on several occasions but gave Henry all the data he needed. The costs appeared to have been well thought out with substantial sums allocated to the recruitment of potential brides. The girls were very confident of the level of fees that the business could charge. They explained how they needed cash to support it although there was sufficient collateral with Kushnati's assets.
Well, it was hardly the Dragon's Den, thought Henry, but, apart from the fact that Kushnati Koresh looked to be pretty much a sleeping partner in the enterprise, there seemed to be no reason why the bank shouldn't advance the money. “If you can have your husband sign the necessary documents, I am sure that the bank will support this,” Henry said.
Victoria raised an eyebrow at Lauren but she simply said, “Leave the forms with me, I'll get him to sign them when he's feeling better. Won't you darling?” This time at least Kushnati managed a flick of an eyelid, though whether of agreement or not Henry could hardly say.
Henry got up to leave. Lauren rang a bell and a muscular man appeared. He gave Lauren a lascivious leer. “Our overseer will take you back to your car,” Lauren said. The man looked disappointed but turned to Henry to indicate the way he should go.
As Henry began to walk towards the door, the overseer stepped between Lauren and her husband and, ignoring the old man in the wheel chair, gripped Lauren in a tight embrace, locking his mouth onto hers and pawing at her breasts.
Victoria looked on with an air of amused tolerance. “He's too eager,” she said. “Lauren, you really should tell him to control himself.”
Lauren disentangled herself from the overseer's grasp and shooed him away. With a disappointed air he gestured for Henry to follow him towards the door. Henry felt grateful to get back to his car.
© Freddie Clegg 2009
All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission.
All characters fictitious
E-mail: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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