Across an equally battered metal desk heaped with invoices, bills, and miscellaneous other bits of paper, all held down bits of flotsam reclaimed from the sea, Leo Koetke shook his head wearily. “I’ve told you, Mr. Kesh, I’m not interested in selling the processing plant. My grandfather started it with his brothers, my father ran it until the day he died, and I’m not about to give up on all that history. Yes, we’ve had a rough couple of years, what with the competition from out of the country and the crappy economy, but we’re hanging in there. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to find someplace else to build your luxury condos.”
Kesh leaned back in a chair that creaked in protest, and smiled benignly at the other man. Neither the slightly run-down surroundings nor their short, balding owner impressed him much. But he had plans that would change all that. Power on land was all about money, and Kesh was discovering he enjoyed playing the games that brought him more of both.
“I have heard that the fish are not running well this year and you have had to cut back on hours and staff,” Kesh said in a conversational tone.
Leo shrugged, calloused fingers fiddling restlessly with a chunk of old iron that might have once been part of an anchor. “Some years the fishing is good, some years it isn’t. That’s the nature of the business. In a couple of weeks, it could all turn around.” He started to rise from his seat. “If we’re done here, I have to get back to work. I’ve got a machine down that I have to jury-rig a part for, and it isn’t going to get done while I’m sitting here talking. Like I’ve told you before, I have no plans to sell.”
Kesh didn’t move and the smile never left his lips. But malice gleamed out of his gray eyes. “I have also heard you are behind on paying your workers, you owe money to suppliers, and you had to take out a large loan on the property. What a shame, when your family has owned the building for so long.”
The shorter man subsided back into his chair and glared across the cluttered expanse of his desk. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but none of that is any of your business.”
Kesh raised one eyebrow. “It is true, though, is it not? Just as it is true that if the fish do not return quickly, you will be forced to close your doors whether you wish it or not.” He leaned nearer, suddenly projecting an aura of menace that had been previously hidden from view. “Would it not be better to sell to me now than to wait until you are forced to shut down and get nothing?”
Leo bit his lip, running one hand through already rumpled hair. “I can’t just sell up. It isn’t only that the business has been in the family for three generations. I’m one of the biggest employers in the area; if I shut down, where will my people get work? They depend on me, on this place. Your condos aren’t going to provide jobs for more than a few gardeners and maids. I can’t do it, I tell you.” The piece of iron he’d been toying with slipped through his fingers and fell unnoticed onto the gouged linoleum floor.
“Oh, I am certain we could find employment for a few of your workers,” Kesh said with a leer. “I noticed a number of reasonably attractive women when I came through before. I have a new venture—floating casinos located on boats just over the line into international waters. They are proving to be surprisingly profitable, and I can always use pretty women to provide entertainment to my predominantly male and wealthy clientele.”
“You want to use my workers as prostitutes?” Leo got up so fast his chair fell over with a clatter. “You’re crazy!”
Kesh lifted his hands in the air. “How is being a paid companion any worse than cleaning fish for a living?” He rose in a more leisurely fashion and headed for the door, turning around before he went out to add, “It would be best to accept my offer sooner rather than later, Mr. Koetke. The price will go down every day you wait. And I do not believe you have much time left.”
He shut the door softly behind him and stopped to wink at the cute redhead sitting at the reception desk. She blushed a becoming pink that matched the strand of little pearls she wore around her neck. Her fingers reached up involuntarily to touch them.
“Good meeting, Mr. Kesh?” she asked.
“All my meetings are good,” he said with a grin, laying on the charm even thicker than usual. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’.”
The secretary giggled and gazed up at him with open admiration. “I guess that’s why you’re so successful, huh?”
Kesh leaned over and kissed her lightly on crimson lips. “It helps to have friends in all the right places,” he said, barely managing to conceal his distaste. The woman was far below him, and not his type, but an endless font of useful information.