Page 150 - Just Deserts

Playa de los Borregos

regulatory reports to deal with. I think Pickett Investment
Corporation has put the best plan before the commission; we’ve got
a lot of experience in large-scale construction projects. Those other
companies trying to ace us out don’t have half our know-how.”
Billings grinned. “You don’t have to sell me on it, Mr. Pickett.
Nope, the man you need to convince is Emory Lane, the head of the
commission. He’s got the final say-so. The rest of the commissioners
will follow his lead, you can take my word for it.”
“Lane, eh?” T. Bond Pickett shaded his eyes against the raking
solar rays with one pudgy paw. “I’ve heard of him. Don’t know much
about him, of course. I suppose you’ve run into him in your travels
through the, ah, corridors of power?”
Billings nodded. “Yes, we’re old acquaintances, Emory and I. Not
the smartest guy in the world, but he did get himself a nice cushy job
in Washington. I remember when he was just another guy leasing
grain silos in the Midwest. He made a few campaign contributions to
the right people and now his word is virtually law when it comes to
dividing the spoils. Uncle Sam holds an awful lot of land in trust, and
plenty of people are trying to convince Emory Lane that they should
be the ones to get their hands on it.”
The developer’s patience, already eroding, finally exposed the
bedrock of his intentions. “See here, Manny: maybe you know a way
to get Lane to consider my proposal in a more favorable light than
the others. It’s worth a reasonable amount to me to have someone in
my corner out there in Washington; I can’t be flying out there at the
drop of a hat to butter up some guy I don’t even know—too much
to do here, anyway, fighting off these damned environmentalists.
You can’t imagine what it cost me to find a wildlife expert who
would certify the property as not being the habitat of some useless
bird or insect. I’ve got too much invested in this thing to leave it up
to chance whether or not Pickett Investments gets the award. What I
want to know is: can you help me out?”
Billings casually scanned the immediate area of the park. No one
was close enough to have overheard Pickett’s impassioned plea.
“This is why we meet out in the open,” he said. “If you can spare me
a few dollars off the books, I will be glad to advise you on the best
way to go about winning in Washington.”
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