The Silent Pool. Phil Kurthausen
‘Yes, you know Kirk, of course.’
The Mayor extended his hand to the software billionaire who ignored it but instead stood up and embraced him like a long lost brother.
Kirk Bovind was one of the world's richest men and certainly the richest man that had ever come from Liverpool since the days of the slavers but he looked like a catalogue model from the seventies. He had a slim build, was tall, had a Californian golden tan, dark brown hair and the shiniest, whitest teeth and eyes that the Mayor had ever seen. Kirk was dressed in a pastel green polo shirt and chinos with bare brown feet wrapped in expensive Italian leather loafers and he didn't look a day over thirty although the Mayor knew that he was at least forty-five.
The Mayor had Googled Bovind a couple of times but Bovind's lawyers and computer experts were ruthless in the removal of any personal information from the web. Information on his company Intracom was widely available but little was known about its founder, CEO and main shareholder. The Intracom PR department had only released a few scant details: Bovind was born in Allerton, Liverpool, to a single mother and educated by the brothers at St Edward's until the age of sixteen when he left for America having gained a scholarship to study Computer Science at MIT. Ten years later he founded Intracom, providing cheap software solutions to schools and winning contract after contract from state governments before launching the product that made Intracom a global business, its family friendly search engine, Lightspeed. The rest was counting dollars.
Kirk let the Mayor free from his embrace.
‘You look tired, Mayor,’ said Kirk.
The Mayor tried to laugh it off.
‘What can I say, the pressures of the job.’
‘I've heard all about it from Anthony and I'm here to help you.’
Kirk flashed his brilliant teeth at the Mayor and then sat back down in his armchair, looking at the stranger sitting in the other armchair and then at Anthony.
Anthony stared back at the Mayor but didn't say a word and for an absurd moment Mayor Lynch thought that they would stay stuck in this silence as no one wanted to introduce the man to the Mayor and the man seemed in no hurry to speak or even acknowledge the presence of the Mayor.
Bovind obliged.
‘And I don't think you've met my spiritual adviser, Pastor Thomas Canch?’
Thomas Canch didn't offer his hand but rather nodded his head ever so slightly in the Mayor's direction. The Mayor got his first proper look at the man. Taut pale skin covered the man's bald head and face. His eyes were sharp flints of grey and shadowed in the recesses of deep sockets. The Mayor nodded back and was relieved that he could turn his eyes away from the Pastor back towards Bovind.
Anthony sat down. ‘We've been discussing Kirk's kind offer,’ he said by way of explanation to the Mayor.
Mayor Lynch noticed the ‘we've’ and wondered what Bovind had promised Anthony. ‘You know my difficulties with this proposal,’ said Mayor Lynch.
Bovind smiled again. ‘I do and I respect that position but I believe that you are going to want to change your mind Mr Mayor. Your city's situation is common knowledge. Only I can save you and our city.’
The Mayor felt a twist in his stomach. He knew he would have to accept the offer but even now he wanted to refuse and run from the building but he knew that he couldn't do that. What stopped him, he wondered? Ambition, pride, or most likely just the lack of will to extract himself from this difficult situation. And there was something else too. He realised with a start that he was frightened of these men, Bovind and the Pastor. There was something unspoken between them, something he would never understand, and it was something dark and strong. The Mayor started to shake his head.
Bovind leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands, palm upwards, on his knees.
‘Let's cut to the chase: Liverpool is bankrupt. Anthony has shared the figures with me. It's grim reading. If you were one of my companies I would be shutting you down today, hell yesterday! Essential services – the hospitals, waste management – are just about coping but the money will run out in, let's see, three weeks’ time unless you get some more central funding.’
‘We are hopeful that will happen.’
Bovind chuckled. ‘I can tell you right now that it will not happen.’
‘The Minister hasn't given any indication one way or the other. We're very hopeful that we can get the additional funds, we meet the hardship criteria.’
‘I'm afraid, Mayor Lynch, you don't have the bigger picture. The Government has been speculating with the family silver, issuing bonds that frankly just aren't what they used to be. I have it on good authority that the credit agencies will shortly be downgrading UK's credit rating again and the value of those bonds will plummet.’ Bovind placed a hand on Mayor Lynch's knee. ‘The Minster, you may or may not know, is a fellow Third Waver and he knows there is nothing left in the cupboard. You are on your own, or rather would be, if it were not for me.’
Anthony mirrored Bovind's movement and leaned forward. He reminded the Mayor of an eager schoolboy. ‘Mr Bovind– Kirk has outlined a very, very generous proposal. His Foundation will provide funding and sponsorship of the city's school system equivalent to the salary costs of all teaching staff for the year.’
Bovind licked his lips and then opened his mouth revealing the whitest of teeth. They looked out of place in a middle-aged face.
‘Let's call it what it is, £50 million for this fiscal year and an option to review annually thereafter.’ Bovind's accent slipped between a Californian drawl and hints of Scouse. It made the Mayor feel a little sick listening to its rolling vowels and pitched endings. ‘Do you realise what I am offering you, Mayor? I am offering you the white charger for you to jump on and save this city with.’
The Mayor had heard the offer before but never directly from Bovind.
‘But the price? Your foundation wants the science curriculum to incorporate Intelligent Design as scientific theory in and the expansion of Religious Education in the overall curriculum. You want us to place Lightspeed in every school yet you know it censors results. You know we can't do it, the teachers’ unions wouldn't stand for it for one thing.’
‘Have you spoken to Ted Coyne recently?’ asked Bovind.
Ted Coyne was the leader of the local branch of the National Union of Teachers, a staunch socialist and the driving force behind the current strikes by teachers across the city. The one thing he hated more than the council and the Mayor was big businesses like Intracom.
‘He's an atheist and probably a communist, he would never agree to the change in curriculum you want.’
‘We will speak to him. Try to enlighten him. Richard, can I call you Richard?’
Bovind didn't wait for an answer.
‘Richard, all we want to do is give the children of this city a choice. What's wrong with that? Intelligent Design is scientific theory supported by many top scientists and it deserves a place alongside other theories. Lightspeed is a great tool and yes it does censor pornography and other filth. What's wrong with that?’
‘Filth like the theory of evolution, you mean?’ said the Mayor.
‘It ranks search results. It does not censor them,’ whispered Bovind. Then he leaned forward further and, to the Mayor's alarm, placed his hands on top of his.
‘We do good, Richard. We know what is best for children's young, vulnerable minds. There is nothing wrong with protecting the innocent.’
‘But if you search for “evolution” and the theory ranks on the tenth page it may as well not exist.’
Bovind's smile, which had disappeared for a moment, crawled back up his face.
‘Look, Richard, all we are saying is give kids the facts, let them hear the competing theories, don't place one above another and,