The slave girl

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Upon the rich austerity of David Murchinson?s polished mahogany the silver chrome of the handcuffs were a shining incongruity against the reticence of Corporate good taste. Corey Gibson eyed them with disdain. She was more concerned with what Murchinson was saying.

"On the face of it I should simply shut up, keep quiet. I should allow Planet Oil Corporation to slide down the drain and your father with it. But I don?t want that." He sighed heavily. "This old family role isn?t all it?s cracked up to be. I?m going to give you two alternatives and advise against both. I suppose that means I?m telling you something I think you ought to know."

She laughed at his sobriety. "David, do cheer up, please! Are those absurd things on the table for a reason?" She nodded at the handcuffs. "Is one of us going to jail?"

"His name is Assef Aslam." Murchinson gravely ignored her question. "He comes close to being one of the most powerful private citizens in the world." Corey Gibson wrinkled her nose. "I've met him…. at functions. He stands still and allows a lot of worried looking men to talk."

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