Lottery Dreams Ch. 02-03

Chapter 2: Meanwhile in the Med

Many miles away, a helicopter touched down beside the blue Mediterranean shore. As the blades wined to a halt, the door opened to reveal the man inside.

Piers Morel stepped lightly out and made his way to the waiting Rolls Royce. The chauffeur opened the door for him, and with a curt "Good morning Sir" they were on their way.

Piers flicked through the morning papers as the car drove on down the coastal route to St Tropez. His shares were doing well, according to the Financial Times, and as he laid the pink paper on the seat beside him, and looked at the startlingly blue water outside, Piers wondered what chef would have ready for him once he was on board his yacht? The Italian chef was one of the best on the coastal resort, and he was lucky to hire him. What with the coming dinner party for the ambassador, Piers wanted the food to be at its best. He could afford it and saw no reason to hold back. Impressing people had become a watchword with him nowadays, and he basked in the reflected glory of his perfection. Egotistical; yes. But he was confident that quality would win out, and Piers was certainly winning now.

The Rolls Royce drew up the quayside, and as security held back the gawking crowds, straining their necks for film stars, Piers; one of the richest men in the world, went on board.

"Everything is ready for you sir," said the Captain as he stepped lightly on board his multi-million dollar yacht. One of the most expensive on the Riviera, Piers looked out at the others.

"Thank you, Captain. We will be taking a trip around the bay before dinner."

He looked at the man, as he saluted and walked off. Piers was left to look at his rivals. The other men who wanted to carve up the world were out there right now. Too much was never enough for them, and as yet, they had not found all the money in the world. But they were busy searching.

It was at times like these that Piers had a mild panic attack. What was it all for? Who was he? Why all this money?

Catrina walked up beside him and draped a long slender arm, weighed down by Armani jewellery, around his waist.

"Penny for them darling?" she smiled, the smile of someone whose skin had been pressed by the best beauty salons the world could dream up.

"I was far away with my thoughts Catrina, but you brought me back, as usual. What would I do without you to bring me down to Earth." Piers held her tightly around the waist and looked into her eyes. As blue as the ocean, behind her.

"Men like you can't dream of problems beset by little men. You are above that now."

"If I ever cease being hungry, they will devour me. Remember that Catrina." Piers walked off the deck into the lounge bar. The barman poured him a Martini on the gold-topped bar.

"Why should you worry Piers?" she asked genuinely worried by his sudden dark mood. "You have everything? Your rivals have tried to oust you many times and failed. Each time you bounce back, ten times stronger. The world fears and respects you."

"Maybe I am ungrateful for my position. But it doesn't stop me from forgetting how I got here." He took a long drink from the glass and listened to the girl and the plans for the evening.

Chapter 3: Hard Times

Back in the factory, things could not be more contrasting.

Charley was concentrating on hauling a sheet of steel onto his machine when the little man ran into the factory.

"Have you heard?" Nigel, a mousy, not altogether trustworthy, little man; ran excitedly up to the men.

"They'll cut your ears off for earwigging one day Nigel," said Old Dave as they set about their work.

"Won't matter much anymore after Christmas," laughed Nigel, in his demonic little sneer.

"What do you mean?" snapped Charley, sensing something was wrong.

"We won't be here anymore."

"Why"

"Because they are shutting the factory."

The mood grew colder now as if they all knew something evil had been spoken.

"First we've heard of it," said Old Dave glancing at the others.

"Bollocks!" said someone else.

"You wait and see," Nigel snapped back, almost reeling under the tirade of abuse.

"Where you get this from then," asked Old Dave in as nasty away as he could.

"I saw the two directors having a real barny of a row in the executive car park."

"Oh well it's all over then isn't it! If you saw two men arguing." laughed Old Dave as he went back to his machine.

"How did you figure all this out from a row in the car park?" Charley wanted to know.

"Because it was the way they were saying it. Waving their arms and shouting into each other's faces." Nigel was triumphant in his telling of the tale.

"You silly old bugger, that means curtains for you too," said Old Dave. "What you so cheerful about?"

"It means I get my redundancy and get the hell away from this place. Off to Spain for me. Stuff their jobs." Nigel was clearly looking forward to the end of factory life, but not so the others.

"Jesus, some of us haven't even been here two years. We won't get a penny in redundancy." Bob looked gloomily at his machine under the flickering lights. "Alright for you Charley, ten years here ain't it?"

"Yes," said Charley, stunned by the news. "It could be my ticket out of here. As long as everything goes smoothly."

"What you mean?" said Nigel sensing a problem. "Once they close the factory we all get paid right? By the government, right?" His ratty little eyes darted about as they looked for reassurance from the men. Fearful that his nest egg was about to be snatched from him.

"Not altogether," mussed Charley. "If they go bust, we get nothing. I've known blokes who have been waiting years for their redundancy, and never got a penny yet. Of course, if they redraw your contract, you go back to square one. Less than 2 years, you get nothing."

"They can't do that!" shouted Nigel, fear shining in his eyes now.

"They might just do it," replied Old Dave.

"What's all this chatter?" said Eurco the foreman, walking over. He had heard the raised voices and knew it was a good excuse for a telling off. It was these nasty little snips that made his day all worthwhile. "Nigel you get back to cleaning the yard if you know what's good for you."

That matter ended there, for now. But they all knew it was boiling away in the snatched whisperings of the factory. Charley was beginning to wonder what sort of computer game would play such a dirty trick on its users? What was the point in making things worse? Back in his world, only seconds had passed, but he might be here a lot longer, and he certainly had not seen any sexy girls. Maybe the lottery was the only way out?