I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
PROLOGUE
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
‘How long have you been working in the business, Ms. Kwun?’
Ms. Natalie Kwun stared straight at her enquirer. ‘Exactly ten years, one week ago.’ Her dulcet voice echoed throughout the room, suppressed only by the carpeted walls.
The room in which she was placed was not a vast one. Four walls (of which two were windowed) boxed the room in an uncomfortably bleak atmosphere. There were about five to six tables, combining to form one huge turquoise-coloured horizontal surface. Ms. Natalie Kwun was seated on the side furthest away from the door.
Point to note: Natalie Kwun was not one to be messed with.
Sat opposite her were her interlocutors. There were two men, one of whom had an eloquent goatee carefully caressed; the other was a much portlier individual. They sat staring at Ms. Kwun with an air most disagreeable. The man with the fungus on his face had hands clasped in front of his mouth. The other twiddled his pen for the umpteenth time in a rather nervous way. His eyes looked as if he had not slept for the past three nights. His speech was ever so stilted, and his demeanour ever so worn out.
Suddenly, he stopped. He slapped his pen onto the table, giving a distinct plonk sound. Even Ms. Kwun was slightly taken aback by this sudden exertion of force. He looked straight into her huge beady eyes that seemed to sparkle every time she uttered a word. He bit into his finger till it bled. Fresh blood oozed onto the table, forming droplets of red, until the droplets formed what could be classed as a tiny pool as big as his thumb.
Both men remarked upon her shrewd smile, her curvaceous lips, and her intimate posture, which gave dominion over all that she surveyed. She had an elegance that was not tarnished even slightly to say the least.
‘Are you going to tell us?’ asked the first man.
‘What do you want to know?’ Ms. Kwun replied.
‘About your business. Naturally.’
‘My business?’ she mused. ‘I’m in media. That’s all you need to know. I shan’t say any more.’ She sighed contentedly, and leant back a little on her chair. It squeaked as she performed the action.
Ms. Kwun could feel the conversation (if one could call it that) shifting. She could almost watch as the dialogue moved steadily away from her business, and onto her personal being. If eyes could talk, hers could render theirs frozen. Her skill in redirecting the conversation was, nearly, second to none. It was almost as if the conversation was something liquid, and she had culminated it in a series of twists and turns, ending at a route marked Exit.
‘How did you come to the business?’ The second man did not take his eyes off her. There was something echoey in his tone that displeased Ms. Kwun. Normally, she took these trivia with a sense of her self-made black humour. However, she knew, she had to play them down.
‘I’m surprised by your frequent use of the word “business”. Business means money.’ Ms. Kwun’s last word in that statement was filled with cacodemonic sarcasm. She could read that she was winning. Every fibre of her body tinged with mischief.
‘Frankly what you say, sir, is insulting. I made my name by legal means. I’m sure you did too. But as to the steps taken in the process, it’s likely something that light-minded people wouldn’t understand,’ said she with an insufferably complacent smile. Her head dipped slightly. Her radiant hair followed suit as she swooped her face upwards. Those atrabilious eyes glared poisonously at the duo.
The men were offended, but they knew they could not lift a finger against her. She knew that too. Therefore she taunted them, toyed with them, alike a little girl controlling her doll, engendering the doll to dance around the garden.
Evidently, this was her intention.
‘Is it usual, in your opinion, for anyone to be granted frequent access to such high ends of government?’
‘Absolutely. It’s a question of knowing when to be shrewd, and where to look for opportunities; when to look out for your money, and where to look for people you can trust,’ replied Ms. Kwun. She cast a sideways glance at her watch.
‘Let me be blunt about this: are you saying that you didn’t use blackmail or coercive force?’
This was a question that Ms. Kwun had practised answering.
‘Well, then, if that’s what you think so, let me be blunt in return: no, I haven’t.’ She spoke with vehemence, shrouded by coarse satire.
The men nodded nervously. Their nods were accompanied by furtive glances in all directions.
‘Will there be any more questions?’ asked Ms. Kwun.
‘There will,’ replied the fat one, trying to sound important.
‘Hmm, well, looking forward.’ Ms. Kwun casually skipped out of the room. She had the poise of a child and the look of the devil about her.
At that point, the men watched her leave. One of them gritted his teeth, to the point that the teeth were tap-dancing. Ms. Kwun could have sworn she heard the other murmur ‘Jesus Christ…’
She smirked. She had won this round.
Ms. Natalie Kwun then punched numbers into her mobile phone. She used the device to send a text message. ‘Come down now.’ Three words, that was all she needed.
A few moments took her to her seven-seater parked in the street. There was a parking ticket on the windscreen. She was never afraid of these bits of paper. Her hand went gracefully towards the ticket. She scooped it up from where it had been between the windscreen and its wiper. ‘Scrap’, that was how she would have described it. She looked insouciantly at it, then crumpled the paper, and tossed it in the adjacent bin.
She slowly opened the car door, and neatly hung her coat on a clothes hanger in the vehicle. She had the heater knob set to a comfortable temperature for a cold Christmas dusk, as she looked back towards the window. Her lips curled upwards, forming what she would call ‘an acclivity’. Her menacing eyes saluted in the direction of the window, as she elegantly stepped into the vehicle’s driver seat. Inside, she rearranged her hair. The flipped-down sun visor provided her need with a mirror installed.
The men noted the process of her action, her blatant disregard for the parking ticket. However, they could only stare with their brows tightened, their fists clenched, and their minds filled with vengeance. The vehicle took a left, and promptly disappeared out of sight.
Away from prying eyes of the building, Ms. Kwun chuckled at her success. This soon turned into a shrill, hysterical laugh. She leant back comfortably on the chair, smiling. Her eyes darted around the car, and then the attention was focused at the front window. The window illumined the rest of the city, which was, she knew, at the mercy of her fingertips.
Presently, she arrived at her lair. Ornate electronic gates opened across a little driveway. Her car progressed along the drive, until her abode loomed closer. She stepped out of her vehicle. Her figure proceeded to walk on the rutted track until she got to the door. She reached into her handbag, and produced her keys. One of the keys was slotted into the hole, making no more noise than that of a cat stalking a mouse. She reached out, and turned the doorknob. She saw her adversary in the room.
‘You,’ said she. The same irksome smile did not leave her face.
Natalie Kwun closed the door behind her.
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
‘How long have you been working in the business, Ms. Kwun?’
Ms. Natalie Kwun stared straight at her enquirer. ‘Exactly ten years, one week ago.’ Her dulcet voice echoed throughout the room, suppressed only by the carpeted walls.
The room in which she was placed was not a vast one. Four walls (of which two were windowed) boxed the room in an uncomfortably bleak atmosphere. There were about five to six tables, combining to form one huge turquoise-coloured horizontal surface. Ms. Natalie Kwun was seated on the side furthest away from the door.
Point to note: Natalie Kwun was not one to be messed with.
Sat opposite her were her interlocutors. There were two men, one of whom had an eloquent goatee carefully caressed; the other was a much portlier individual. They sat staring at Ms. Kwun with an air most disagreeable. The man with the fungus on his face had hands clasped in front of his mouth. The other twiddled his pen for the umpteenth time in a rather nervous way. His eyes looked as if he had not slept for the past three nights. His speech was ever so stilted, and his demeanour ever so worn out.
Suddenly, he stopped. He slapped his pen onto the table, giving a distinct plonk sound. Even Ms. Kwun was slightly taken aback by this sudden exertion of force. He looked straight into her huge beady eyes that seemed to sparkle every time she uttered a word. He bit into his finger till it bled. Fresh blood oozed onto the table, forming droplets of red, until the droplets formed what could be classed as a tiny pool as big as his thumb.
Both men remarked upon her shrewd smile, her curvaceous lips, and her intimate posture, which gave dominion over all that she surveyed. She had an elegance that was not tarnished even slightly to say the least.
‘Are you going to tell us?’ asked the first man.
‘What do you want to know?’ Ms. Kwun replied.
‘About your business. Naturally.’
‘My business?’ she mused. ‘I’m in media. That’s all you need to know. I shan’t say any more.’ She sighed contentedly, and leant back a little on her chair. It squeaked as she performed the action.
Ms. Kwun could feel the conversation (if one could call it that) shifting. She could almost watch as the dialogue moved steadily away from her business, and onto her personal being. If eyes could talk, hers could render theirs frozen. Her skill in redirecting the conversation was, nearly, second to none. It was almost as if the conversation was something liquid, and she had culminated it in a series of twists and turns, ending at a route marked Exit.
‘How did you come to the business?’ The second man did not take his eyes off her. There was something echoey in his tone that displeased Ms. Kwun. Normally, she took these trivia with a sense of her self-made black humour. However, she knew, she had to play them down.
‘I’m surprised by your frequent use of the word “business”. Business means money.’ Ms. Kwun’s last word in that statement was filled with cacodemonic sarcasm. She could read that she was winning. Every fibre of her body tinged with mischief.
‘Frankly what you say, sir, is insulting. I made my name by legal means. I’m sure you did too. But as to the steps taken in the process, it’s likely something that light-minded people wouldn’t understand,’ said she with an insufferably complacent smile. Her head dipped slightly. Her radiant hair followed suit as she swooped her face upwards. Those atrabilious eyes glared poisonously at the duo.
The men were offended, but they knew they could not lift a finger against her. She knew that too. Therefore she taunted them, toyed with them, alike a little girl controlling her doll, engendering the doll to dance around the garden.
Evidently, this was her intention.
‘Is it usual, in your opinion, for anyone to be granted frequent access to such high ends of government?’
‘Absolutely. It’s a question of knowing when to be shrewd, and where to look for opportunities; when to look out for your money, and where to look for people you can trust,’ replied Ms. Kwun. She cast a sideways glance at her watch.
‘Let me be blunt about this: are you saying that you didn’t use blackmail or coercive force?’
This was a question that Ms. Kwun had practised answering.
‘Well, then, if that’s what you think so, let me be blunt in return: no, I haven’t.’ She spoke with vehemence, shrouded by coarse satire.
The men nodded nervously. Their nods were accompanied by furtive glances in all directions.
‘Will there be any more questions?’ asked Ms. Kwun.
‘There will,’ replied the fat one, trying to sound important.
‘Hmm, well, looking forward.’ Ms. Kwun casually skipped out of the room. She had the poise of a child and the look of the devil about her.
At that point, the men watched her leave. One of them gritted his teeth, to the point that the teeth were tap-dancing. Ms. Kwun could have sworn she heard the other murmur ‘Jesus Christ…’
She smirked. She had won this round.
Ms. Natalie Kwun then punched numbers into her mobile phone. She used the device to send a text message. ‘Come down now.’ Three words, that was all she needed.
A few moments took her to her seven-seater parked in the street. There was a parking ticket on the windscreen. She was never afraid of these bits of paper. Her hand went gracefully towards the ticket. She scooped it up from where it had been between the windscreen and its wiper. ‘Scrap’, that was how she would have described it. She looked insouciantly at it, then crumpled the paper, and tossed it in the adjacent bin.
She slowly opened the car door, and neatly hung her coat on a clothes hanger in the vehicle. She had the heater knob set to a comfortable temperature for a cold Christmas dusk, as she looked back towards the window. Her lips curled upwards, forming what she would call ‘an acclivity’. Her menacing eyes saluted in the direction of the window, as she elegantly stepped into the vehicle’s driver seat. Inside, she rearranged her hair. The flipped-down sun visor provided her need with a mirror installed.
The men noted the process of her action, her blatant disregard for the parking ticket. However, they could only stare with their brows tightened, their fists clenched, and their minds filled with vengeance. The vehicle took a left, and promptly disappeared out of sight.
Away from prying eyes of the building, Ms. Kwun chuckled at her success. This soon turned into a shrill, hysterical laugh. She leant back comfortably on the chair, smiling. Her eyes darted around the car, and then the attention was focused at the front window. The window illumined the rest of the city, which was, she knew, at the mercy of her fingertips.
Presently, she arrived at her lair. Ornate electronic gates opened across a little driveway. Her car progressed along the drive, until her abode loomed closer. She stepped out of her vehicle. Her figure proceeded to walk on the rutted track until she got to the door. She reached into her handbag, and produced her keys. One of the keys was slotted into the hole, making no more noise than that of a cat stalking a mouse. She reached out, and turned the doorknob. She saw her adversary in the room.
‘You,’ said she. The same irksome smile did not leave her face.
Natalie Kwun closed the door behind her.