Free Wired by Robert L. Wise Page B

foyer.
    “I'll close the door while you wait,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. Her professional smile never flickered or shifted.
    Graham sat down in a large leather-covered chair and picked up a newspaper. “She's about as warm as yesterday's toast.” He
     glanced at the headlines and quickly scanned the side columns. “This isn't a good time to talk about the subject, but the
     morning paper says that Borden Carson and his Royal Arab Petroleum Company are contemplating hitting the USA with an increase
     in the cost of oil. Just what I suspected!”
    “What do you mean, Dad?”
    “I don't trust Carson and his company. They're trying to control the world through the price of oil.”
    “Yeah, but the Russians have all the oil we can buy,” Matt answered. “In one of my economics classes I read about production
     at the arctic oil terminal in Varandey where one of Russia's biggest oil companies sent 200,000 barrels of crude oil to Houston
     in one month. Conoco Oil Company has a big production outlet at the Ardalin Oil Fields as well.”
    “Yes,” Graham said. “But Carson's maneuvers are driving the prices up for everyone and who knows what he's trying to work
     out with the Russians behind closed doors.”
    “I thought Mayor Bridges was an ally of Carson? At least that's what I picked up at the University.”
    “Bridges and I disagree on that call, son. The mayor trusts him far more than I do.”
    Matthew rubbed his chin. “I know this isn't the right time to discuss an issue like international petroleum, but how did Carson
     get to the position where he controlled so much oil?”
    “The problem started several decades ago, Matt. You've probably read about several Middle Eastern wars in Iraq and Iran not
     long after the turn of the century. Of course, Saudi Arabia got blasted in the backlash of a couple of those nuclear exchanges
     and their oil fields were seriously disrupted. I've never had anyone tell me exactly where Borden Camber Carson came from,
     but he started out in business restoring damaged oil wells.”
    “you know anything about his nationality?” Matthew said.
    Graham shook his head. “His background is something of a mystery. I don't know why the press is sitting on the story, but
     no one seems to have printed any of the inside details yet.”
    “Interesting,” Matt continued, “Carson's position seems to be getting stronger every day.”
    “Yeah. He had an uncanny ability to unite oil companies and come out on top in each of those mergers. Before long Royal Arab
     Petroleum had the capacity to buy out other producers. One thing led to another and Carson emerged as the top dog. He knew
     how to play his cards.”
    “I guess he did,” Matthew said. “Sounds like he's still trying to put his pincers into the Midwest.”
    “That's my fear,” Carson said, “and I think that…”
    The office door opened and a large heavyset man walked in with a small thin man behind him. The pudgy neck of the first man
     rolled over his white collar and his puffy cheeks had an unusually bright red tint. “Thank you for coming so promptly, folks.”
     He flashed a smile that slightly resembled Mrs. Hutchinson's grin. “I'm Joseph Cassoday and I'm pleased to assist you. This
     is our service counselor, Eric Jackson. We won't have your mother ready until this afternoon, but we are moving right along.”
     He dropped down in the large desk chair behind his long mahogany desk and pulled out a price list from the righthand drawer.
     “Do you have any questions before we start?”
    “I do,” Matthew said.
    “Certainly!” Cassoday beamed.
    “Aren't almost all of the churches closed? I mean, where do people have services?”
    “Right here!” Cassoday's voice had an enthusiastic sound. “We can take care of any needs that arise here in our building.”
    “Oh!” Matthew slumped back in his chair. “I guess I assumed people had funerals in churches. Mr. Jackson handles these issues?”
    “Well!” Cassoday