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air, taking his time to consider the request that had just been made.
    Against the back wall, watching the proceedings with little real interest stood the shadowy figure of a thick set and heavily built man known simply as Jackson. He leant casually up against the door, every now and again shifting his weight slightly in order to remain comfortable. The overweight Mayor leant forward in his chair, which again groaned under his weight and meticulously gathered up the papers in front of him. Then, tapping them on the table to straighten them, he cleared his throat, having seemingly come to his decision.
    ‘Well, Father Matthew, I have taken your concerns on board.’ He leant forward against the table, his voice now mocking. ‘And please be assured that your views, and the health of those you represent, are of paramount importance to us, thank you. Please feel free to discuss the details with Josiah… if you think it would help.’
    The room filled with the sound of stifled laughter as Mayor Cooper looked across to the doorway where the shadowy figure with an immobile face stood.
    ‘Jackson, would you mind showing Father Matthew out, please?’
    Father Matthew stood a little uneasily and shuffled helplessly toward the door. He understood that he was being mocked but knew better than to argue as he also knew that he was risking his life by even being here. Defeated, he hesitated at the door, before addressing the Mayor.
    ‘Thank you for your time, Mayor Cooper, I'll catch up with Josiah later in the week then.’
    ‘Yes, yes, you do that now. Bye.’ The last word was spoken by the Mayor with a dismissive wave of his fat hand.
    Almost before the door closed behind the Father , the room erupted into roars of laughter. Mayor Cooper waved the noise down.
    ‘Now , let’s get back to some real business,’ he said sternly as he gathered the papers together and the laughter dissipated. ‘Well let’s see now. We’ve met, or exceeded, all of our targets. The food factories are keeping our friends happy. Despite the weak sunlight we’re producing enough bioethanol to power all the major City generators.’ He blew a perfect smoke ring into the air. ‘We might even get some transport running soon. Yep, I think our friends will be truly pleased.’
    There was a general muttering of approval. One of the men to his right leant forward on his powerful arms. He was almost a foot shorter than the Mayor, but much more powerfully built. He had a completely bald head, which seemed to sit atop his broad shoulders because of his almost non-existent, thickset neck. His name was Josiah. When he spoke his voice had a slightly Southern drawl.
    ‘Tom, I do believe the art of capitalism is well and truly alive.’
    Ripples of laughter washed around the table.
    ‘You know what Josiah?’ replied the Mayor ‘I think you might just be right. See now…’ he looked round the table into each and every face. ‘… The true art of business is finding the right market, regardless of how dire the circumstances might at first appear’.
    Josiah chuckled and said with a deadpan face and wry smile ‘And it does help if you don’t give a damn about who, or what, you deal with.’
    The room again erupted into laughter.
    Calling for order the Mayor then called the meeting to a close. He clambered to his feet. As he watched the others preparing to leave in a melee of self-congratulation, he allowed Jackson to help him into his thick overcoat.
    Then, when only Josiah and the bodyguard remained, Cooper turned to them, waving at Jackson to close the door. When he spoke this time his voice was low and hushed,
    ‘Jackson if you wouldn’t mind? He waited until Jackson had pushed the door fully closed before he continued.
    ‘Josiah that other bit of business, have you managed to…’ he stopped abruptly as out of the corner of his eye he noticed the door handle begin to turn.
    Angrily he shouted out, ‘Hey! This is a private meeting , you’ll get lost