Chapter two

The city is London in England and the time something past 1830 hours
GMT. Kurt is turning off his PC; impatiently waiting for the screen to
flash "it's now safe to turn off your computer" sign and to hear the
click that gives the happy news that the day is over. "Technology is
still not perfect, it's bloody slow", thought Kurt as he waited for his
computer to shut down.

It was Friday and his colleagues were prompt to have left the office at
5 o'clock sharp. The ones that headed off to the local pub may already
be on their third pints by now and the others on their way home or to
some other interesting place, meeting some new women probably. He was
left working late because he had to send out a report to the company's
HO in the US, "definitely by the end of day today", as per the words of
his boss.

Although cursing the job, the Friday feeling prevented matters from
looking too bad at this point. But as he collected his coat and walked
through the familiar corridor that led to the lifts, Kurt could feel
the cold sweat on his forehead, as he has been for the past few days.
Sounds like a very insignificant thing to notice, but there was a
reason behind it, a reason that also prompted the chill to run down his
spine.
___________

Kurt Hamilton works as a project co-ordinator in a multinational energy
company. He was placed in Power Corp's medium sized Europe head office
in Marylebone, London three years back as project assistant. Born and
brought up in the suburbs of London, Kurt belonged to that rare breed
of Brits who 'liked to stick in and around civilisation'. Any place
outside of the western European countries is no place at all; they were
the "dwelling places of the less privileged people". But what about
America, his employers, "for heaven's sake, are they less privileged as
well?" This would probably be the question of anyone not belonging to
Kurt's breed and reading this paragraph. "Well, but America is almost
the same as the UK, we share the same ancestors after all." A forced
statement, the first bit of which is probably not true if you check the
origin of all of today's Americans, but how could he simply admit the
fact that any nation was more advanced than the queen's own. "And since
we are already following them, then why not try and call ourselves
their ally before anyone brands us as their vassal."

Born to a small family of four, which included a London cabbie dad, a
housewife mother and an elder sister who is now a teacher and lives
with her boyfriend in Liverpool, Kurt broke all traditions in the
family and got a white-collar job in a swanky central London office.
"Well done, my boy", said Hamilton senior when he got the news, "may
you keep our family flag fluttering high".

"Ahem?I suppose the flag's only just been hoisted", muttered Kurt under
his breath".

Kurt has always been a capitalist in his mind. The stock market, the
Banks and the industries are for him, the Gods of the modern man.

"Jesus' God died just before the industrial revolution started" was the
line he often used when he was in a conversation on modern society with
peers at a pub or at an informal dinner. A discreet side-to-side roll
of his eyeballs would often accompany this statement, to check if it
made any impact across the table. He sometimes thought that provided it
found the right media it would probably draw the same attention as
Lennon's "we are now more popular than Jesus" statement.

To talk about the character of Kurt Hamilton, he was a stereotypical
'true professional'. He was not a senior decision maker yet, but he
would follow the instructions of his boss and subsequently the HO, down
to the last letter. His company was his country and its logo his union
jack (or rather the stars and stripes). Maturity of the market in the
west made his company look at the third world countries for survival.
Cheaper labour, lower technology and low competition (therefore meaning
the ability to quote exorbitant prices), made them even bigger,
greedier and richer. Kurt's job involved looking after the projects in
Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Well, basically he was taking
project related reports from the offices in these countries, checking
them and passing them over to the states, but the exciting bit was he
could make about two or three trips annually to Houston to see his
American bosses. He considered these trips as a reward to the headache
he had to face everyday while co-ordinating activities with his
colleagues from the 'disorganised cultures'.

The job helped him maintain a bank balance that was growing at a
cumulative rate every month. It gave him a nice and compact VW Golf GTI
and a one-bedroom rented apartment in a street off Holloway Road. Not
very striking names, but for a thirty year old bachelor, they held
promises for the coming future.

To summarise his life, even though he never managed to sustain a
relationship for more than six months in a row and there would be a gap
of approximately one year between two such relationships, Kurt Hamilton
was a happy man with his rare one night stands and the material
comforts that his job bought him. But that was up until twenty days
back that is when Kurt seemed to question not just his happiness, but
also his sanity. At first he thought it was loneliness that was making
him hallucinate, perhaps he had to see the shrink or perhaps it was
just the ghost of his relationship with Erica.
__________

Kurt's relationship with Erica Thornton about a year back could be
described as the one that came closest to being the one 'made in
heaven'. She was the girl who had separated the man Kurt from the dry
executive.

They had met on a flight to Houston. Not a very long transcontinental
flight, but enough to get the two of them to talk about their jobs. She
was about 5 feet 7 inches tall, blonde with blue eyes. A stereotypical
beauty, but without the taboos attached to a blonde, that's what Kurt
the lover boy thought.

Erica was a successful careerist or rather on her way to becoming one.
She was working for an advertising agency as "accounts manager" and
managed a few blue chip clients.

"Coke's my favourite account. Dynamic and with opportunities to work
multi country, they give us the chance to work on our creative cells to
the maximum", said she to Kurt as the stewardess was serving them
another round of drinks.

"Creativity", exclaimed Kurt, "very interesting, although I am an
inhabitant of the ether world, I think that its creativity that brings
the consumer closer to their brand, I just find it so fascinating",
remarked Kurt as he sipped on his glass of Stella Artois. But honestly,
this was Kurt Hamilton, esq. and I find it difficult to believe that he
had an original opinion on creativity. There was something seriously
'fishy' about it. I can tell you that this lanky dark haired man in a
pin striped suit and 'Boot's' glasses resting on his hawk nose had
heard that line during some conversation somewhere. 'Observant and a
good memory' has always been one of the strengths mentioned on his
CV.

The flight was descending and the two strangers had almost wrapped up a
long and interesting chat. Kurt now had a better idea of the
advertising world and 'creative cells'. Although appreciative, he just
quietly wished that these 'cells' were just a source of 'cheap fuel'
rather than a medium that produced dumb advertisements.

But Erica was a captivating woman. He had to see those eyes again and
had to ask her about her plans for "tomorrow evening". After all, she
was just on holiday. Well, she agreed and they met for dinner at a
Houston restaurant and it seemed that the rest would unfold like one of
Andersen's fairy tales.

Erica and Kurt fell in love. Back in 'sunny' England, they would meet
almost every evening and definitely every weekend. He spent many a
night at her shared Fulham apartment and vice versa. The advertising
executive's influence on this 'fuel executive' reflected on his
trendier suits and designer glasses. His bank balance ceased from
growing at a cumulative rate, but the dough was all 'well invested' in
personal grooming and entertaining.

Kurt's friends and family thought that this was it, the stag had met
its mate and he would soon settle down in life with a mortgage and a
railcard to get him to town from a postcode such as KT or EN. Even
Erica was thinking along the same lines. She was just waiting for Kurt
to make the verbal proposal.

He would have, believe me, I know my character and he would definitely
have made the proposal. But around one of those days, Erica got a call
from a head - hunter that had a potential offer from an advertising
agency in Sydney, Australia.

Oz, the sunny land where so many Britons aspire to work and Erica was
no exception. From the head - hunter's words, it seemed to be a good
agency handling multinational clients like her current employers and
they offered a good relocation package. So she said yes for an
interview.

Come on, it was just a word, 'yes' and she needed the change from grey
England. Moreover, working abroad reflects very well on one's CV. So
what was wrong in that? Well, nothing except that a small new world was
prevented from being built somewhere in suburban London.

"Yeah, it would be a very good idea if you move with me. It will be a
positive change for us", said Erica as she broke the news to
Kurt.

But what is a project co-ordinator of an energy company supposed to do
in the country down under? His company had no branches or subsidiaries
in Australia that he could ask for an internal transfer and he did not
have the mindset to move without a job and start looking for something
afresh.

Amidst all these arguments, there was still the chance that the deal
might not materialise for Erica at all and that meant all the pieces
falling back into their own places, once again; but around four weeks
later, Qantas Airways flight number 302 from Heathrow to Sydney
devilishly told Kurt that they wouldn't. He had met her the first time
in a plane and he was bidding adios while watching her take off in
another.
__________

However, all these thoughts would somehow disintegrate at this hour
everyday for the past twenty-one days or so. Everyday he has had
something to do that would make him stay longer in office. Its not that
he was not used to it, but why has he always been finishing just in
time to see 'him'?