Franz Goller – Global Accounts

Reggae music, fridge with Perrier, San Pellegrino and non-alcoholic beer. Fresh oranges, grapes, sliced ​​melon, a bowl of popcorn. A dartboard with three darts, a telescope, an old, shabby wing chair behind the desk. Franz Goller who had a strong physical resemblance to the University of Alabama football coach, Crimson Tide.

When Sixto enters the office he is offered an espresso that is served almost without giving him time to accept or deny. 80% arabica. Franz only likes the smell. Next to the window there is a small coffee table and a sofa acting as a living room. Instead of a TV or a fireplace, the sofa points to the glass wall where only sky and pollution can be seen. Beyond the grove was the river that covered seven states. The Global Accounts department has a catering service. Franz telephones and orders the lobster ravioli, tomato juice and a muffin.

"It's hard to explain" he says.

The sofa is low and deep. It’s difficult to find a comfortable posture. Sixto crosses his legs. Franz speaks from behind. He opens a bottle of Perrier. He removes gum from his mouth and throws it in the trash. It was hard to explain. He could not reveal the client. He was not a client-client as such. An associate. A friend of a friend. Not even that. A call from the other side of the country, an unusual telephone code. It had to be done. The order was unusual, the action difficult to classify. Something undefined. Vague instructions. There was something in the background, an identifiable intention. But the process, the system, the application ... it was going to take imagination, maybe talk to the guys at strategy and ask for help. The work was not going to be billed as usual. The goal was nobody from Congress, this was something else, corporate level, high draft stock trades, what Chomski called the Masters of the Universe. There were divestitures, buying options, companies swallowing companies, decisions that would impact two years later, purchases of futures, acquisitions that at first made no sense, tactical deviations. The target had a name and surname. There was a postal address. There was a house with swimming pool and tennis court. Private security, protected phone lines, decoders. The target had a name and a surname. There was a geography to attend to. It was going to be necessary to move there. It was not going to be a closed job, an operation with clear start and end. It was not going to be possible to set specific dates. There would be an angle of subjectivity, difficulty in reading results. It was going to be necessary to move people for one, two, three months. Four at best.

"For now?" Asks Sixto finishing the expresso.

"One possibility would have been not to call you or tell you anything. Use other ways"

            "Leaving me busy with the drones pilot and the Arkansas kids"

"Rick Mannieski"

"And the wars"         

“What wars?”

"Wars" repeats Sixto with a lost look. "Tanzania. There is a new war in Tanzania"

"Tanzania. The Olduvai Gorge. The Cradle of Mankind" says Franz locating Tanzania on his globe.

The operation was not to be billed. The income, invisible. For now he didn’t need to know anymore. For now all he wanted was to plant a seed in his head. Not even a seed, a pre-seed. A major operation was on its way, with potential personal implications, away-from-home Thanksgiving days, Christmas on stand-by, Super Bowls watched alone in some motel in a remote location in Maryland, in Iowa, in Massachusetts. Take away pizza, cans of soda, that sort of thing.

"For now I want you to chew the possibility"

"At my sixty years of age"

"At your sixty years of age" corroborates Franz rising from the couch without saying yes or no.

Sixto goes to the bullseye. Grabs the three darts and places himself ready to throw. Two twenty doubles and one single thirteen. "Ninety three"

On top of a shelf stands an old teapot with a multi-coloured crochet cover. Franz approaches the target and removes the darts.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Someone called Harriet"

Sixto arches his brows, feeling briefly jealous, remembering other times. Then he smiles, steadying himself in the security and balance of a lasting relationship. It is based on pillars such as robustness, foundations, peace. Someone called Harriet.

"What percentage did they give you?"

"Sixty-five"

"That’s not bad" Sixto admits.

"Apparently we have a good degree of incompatibility. She does not like red meat enough and I’m not a sit down breakfast type of person "

"Red meat"

"Ribs, brisquet, rib-eye"

"What?"

"Incompatibilities are no longer studied like before. Tastes or dislikes are combined in different spheres. The fact that she doesn’t like red meat is seen as something positive as long as I like ... I don’t know, cruises, for example. They, well not they, there is no one, they is a machine, it’s a machine, like everything, hardware and software, a device that has not been named, something that symbolises the agency"

"A device connected to a server. Someone looking over just in case, a maintenance boy"

"A machine located in one of the offices in the west wing, where the technology centre"

"A machine in an office overlooking the river"

"It imports data, usage history, music, restaurants, what streets circulated one when driving a car"

"The service sheet"

"The road map"

Franz throws the darts. Triple 20, 18 single and double 4.

"66" says taking the darts and passing them to Sixto who does not want to continue playing but carries on anyway.

"What darts are these?"

"Tungsten darts. The scarcer metal of the earth's crust"

"Tungsten"

"Harrows Dimplex. A hundred bucks a piece"