The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,49
I was married, I did the single-guy thing with Andy.”
“So Andy — Mr. Cameron — is single?”
“Forget the ‘Mr. Cameron.’ It doesn’t suit him, and yes, he is single. He wasn’t when he got here, but his wife lasted less than a year before heading back to Scotland with their three daughters. Andy fell into the Asian honey trap, and he’s still in it.”
“So he likes the girls?”
“Oh yes, he does indeed, and the girls like Andy. And why wouldn’t they? He’s got money, he’s a Westerner, and he’s single. He can take his pick, and he isn’t shy about enjoying a variety. They come and go about as often as he changes socks. Although I do have to say that his taste leaves something to be desired. In fact he stopped getting invited to some functions because of the girls he was bringing along. Not all cross-cultural encounters are successful, and no matter how badly you want it to work, an Indonesian working girl with her breasts half-hanging out of her dress, her skirt four inches above her knee, and tattoos on her shoulder blades doesn’t quite fit in at the British consulate’s summer fete.”
“Charming.”
“Actually he does have charm, in a sly kind of way. He’s quick to smile, Andy is, and the girls love that. And he’s very confident, to the point of being almost over-the-top cocky. He thinks a lot of himself.”
“How did he end up in Surabaya?”
“Who really knows? He says he was recruited, that he was working for a Scottish bank in Rome and was hired to come here.”
Ava had finished her wine. Masterson saw her empty glass and then drained his beer. “Another?”
“Sure.”
Masterson held his bottle in the air. The waiter was at the table in a flash, taking the bottle and picking up her glass. “Another round,” Masterson said.
“How old is Andy?”
“Late thirties, I would guess, though he’s starting to look older. He isn’t that tall, maybe five six. When he first arrived here, he was whippet thin, or maybe I should say ‘weasel thin,’ because that’s what my wife thinks he looks like. It’s his face — it sort of comes to a point, you know, and it’s a bit long for his body. He’s got a thin nose that sticks out as if he’s perpetually sniffing at something.”
“That doesn’t sound very attractive.”
“It wasn’t so bad when he was thin, but his lifestyle has wreaked havoc with his body. He’s developed this rather large, firm, round belly,” he said, patting his own wryly. “I have one too, but I’m tall enough that it gets lost in the shuffle. Andy isn’t so lucky. And what makes it worse is that he still insists on wearing tight shirts. He’s got a bit of an issue with his self-image. During the week he’s in banker suits, but on weekends and party nights he’s in ripped jeans and some damn designer shirt made for someone who’s fit and in his twenties.”
Another San Miguel and glass of Meursault were placed on the table. Ava felt her tummy rumble, and the idea of having dinner with Masterson suddenly became appealing. Before she could speak, his phone rang.
“Hi, babe.” He listened intently for a moment and then said, “Okay, see you at home.”
“Your wife?”
“Yeah, she’s back.”
Ava could feel that he was anxious to go. “Is she Indonesian?”
“Yeah. We’ve been married about three years. She runs an import business. I met her here actually, upstairs at Sarkies. Love at first sight. We were married in Toronto — not that we had a choice. Despite how tolerant this country is, it still wouldn’t have gone down too well, her marrying a Christian.”
“I’d like to meet her sometime.”
“You’re here for another day or two?”
“I think so.”
“Well, we can have dinner.”
“Okay. Just let me know where and when.”
Masterson took a deep swig of his beer, and Ava knew she wouldn’t have his attention for much longer.
“John, tell me, what would be the best way for me to approach Andy Cameron?”
“You really want to do business with his bank?”
“The Hong Kong client will be upset if I don’t at least make the effort to meet with him.”
“I’ll call him for you.”
“You would?”
“Sure.”
“That would be great. Where are their offices?”
“Just around the corner from here, near Tunjungan Plaza. No more than a five-minute walk.”
“What will you tell him?”
“What do you want me to tell him?”
“That I’d appreciate a meeting — informal or formal, it makes no difference — and the sooner the better, of course.”