Coffee by gren blackall Page B

lighting fixtures by Dale Chihuly. The collection of
furniture could serve as a museum gallery of contemporary European
and American works. None of the walls met at right angles, creating
interesting nooks. One end of the office showcased a highly
accurate scale model of the entire complex, complete with shrubs,
paths, roads, and tiny people. Etty was drawn toward it, interested
in the arrangement of this eclectic prison.
    McKinsey
stepped behind her. “Quite a layout, yes?”
    Etty
didn’t turn around, focusing at the model. “Yes, it is
absolutely amazing. It astounds me that a company with such wealth,
such apparent wherewithal, can use astonishingly deranged methods.
What do you expect to gain by abducting me?”
    “We
are a service company, Miss Bishop, first and foremost. We do
whatever it takes to please our customers. The very same wealth you
describe has been painstakingly earned, penny by penny, year after
year, project after project.”
    “How
poetic.”
    “You
might think we are just a band of simple thieves. After going
through what you have, I guess I wouldn’t blame you. I had
planned to use the SEC ruse only to get you down here, and talk
straight forward about opportunities. I learned two things from our
initial phone conversation. First, that you weren’t going to
be easily convinced. Second, that you are perfect - I had to have
you as part of our team. I do extreme things when I want something
that badly. I hope we can get over this awkward beginning and start
a new relationship.”
    “I
don’t think so.”
    “Besides
a few extraordinary exceptions, Global Growers is engaged in only
legitimate enterprises.” McKinsey swept his hand through the
air.
    Etty
huffed.
    “Much
of the food around the world has been fertilized or grown under the
influence of our chemicals. Our disease control research has
virtually eliminated all the great crop killers of the past. Recent
growth of the world’s food supply is significantly a result of
our effort - at rates unimaginable only a decade ago.”
    Etty
studied the intricate features of the model while she thought. Tiny
windows, little pathways of brick, the designs of glass on top of
the Rotunda. McKinsey continued. “Here in the South Wing we
have WIC, the company’s Investment group. Our original mission
was to manage the investment funds of our Agriculture division.
With small subsidiaries popping up all over the world, our group
expanded to handle foreign money, for paying salaries and vendors.
We started speculating in foreign currencies, and amassed a fortune.
We know more about a country’s stability than anyone in the
world, because we are out in the fields with the farmers, watching
their crops, seeing the impact of weather. In the third world,
currency follows economy, and economy follows food production.”
    He
paused to let it sink in. “Our fertilizers and growth
hormones were doing incredibly well. But that same success led to
another frustration. We were dismayed with the behavior of the
market price for the crops. When volumes rose, price dropped! It
turned out our own successes were undermining our profit, shooting
ourselves in the foot, if you will. We decided to do something
about it. We bought seats on the major food exchanges in Chicago
and New York, and began studying the market activity. We devised a
number of plans that improved our returns - when to come to market,
how much at what time, how to bid. Etc. Etc. Our clients’
profits increased. More and more major producers came to us. And
yes, sometimes, we even courted the edge of legality to bring more
profits - as you know from your auspicious research project.”
    Etty
interrupted with nonchalance. “What’s the section over
here without any windows? Let me guess, that’s your little
guest house for visitors like me.”
    “The
West Wing houses our Agricultural Research Center, or ‘ARC’.
Some of the floors have highly sensitive research going on.
Contaminants and