IBO by Brian R. Lundin (the best books of all time .txt) 📕

toilet. A soiled mattress was on the floor and there was an angle-deep worn green rug on the floor. A small light bulb was attached to a ceiling fan, which circulated the warm air. Surprisingly, there was an abstract and an impressionist painting on the drab olive green wall. A large gray Siamese cat with green eyes balefully looked at the crowd of people invading his office. Two armed police officers were standing behind the colonel who was sitting at a desk that was noticeably a good twelve inches above the rest of the room. The air smelled musty, as if a window had not been opened in a while. An arrangement of dying wild flowers was in an oriental designed vase on a table by a closed window. A fat fish swam lazily in a small round moss covered dirty bowl that did not have an air pump or filter, just multi-colored gravel and shells at the bottom. The room was humid and Malik wiped the sweat from his forehead, it was stuffy inside the room and the air outside were getting warmer. Seating in front of a large oak desk was Askido, behind the desk sat Colonel Tong. He was wearing in a brown ancient shirt with wringles that had turned colors. The shirt was covered with medals and the collar was greasy as was the cuffs. The colonel was pouring himself a glass of Grappa from a half empty bottle.
“Pops and Malik I would like you to meet Colonel Tong, Chief of the Bangkok Police Department,” Askido said.
Colonel Tong got out of his chair and walked around his desk, swishing the wine around in his glass.
Colonel Tong was tall for an Asian, over six feet. Below thick bushy eyebrows, he had dark, humorless snake-like eyes with bags under them in a dark weather-beaten face. The battered face was not naturally ugly, but showed a lifetime of hard times. He had a broken nose, a severe rash and a hideous scar that ran above his left eye to his upper lip. It looked like the colonel was in a knife fight without a knife Malik mused.
His head was big and meaty and had cropped gray hair, cut in a short military style and he kept stroking his unkempt, bushy gray handlebar mustache. He was smoking a fat foul smelling cigar and the blue smoke he blew out of his big, lumpy nose curled around his head. He reminded Malik of an old movie he saw with a fire-breathing dragon. He had a study gaze and exhibited a certain air of confidence and authority and a smile of a predator about to eat something foul. A stiff breeze buffered the wooden structure of his office and keened with a high note as it forced its way throughout the room. He had the built of a football player but moved like a cat. As he approached, Malik could smell his nicotine and stale wine breath, suddenly he gave out a lung-shaking cough; the glass of wine fell from his hand and shattered on the wood floor. The colonel grabbed the desk to keep his balance, but he recovered quickly and with no sense of embarrassment, warmly shook Malik and Pops hand and there was a roguish lopsided grin on his face.
“Ah, Romeo y Juietas and a good Cuban cigar. Good cigars, fine Italian wines and a beautiful woman, aahh, life is good,” he said smiling, exposing an uneven row of tobacco-stained teeth and two gold ones. The colonel motioning for Malik and Pops to sit down in the two brown leather chairs opposite his desk.
All the chairs surrounding the desk was a couple of inches lower than Colonel Tong’s chair which Malik thought was a sign of insecurity rather than a sign of authority.
“I understand you young men are interested in doing business in my city,” he said relighting the cigar.
“Yes, under the right conditions,” Malik said.
“Well, I’m a reasonable man and can be trusted, can you?” “Yes sir, if we can reach an agreement, we will keep our end, what’s your price?” Malik asked.
Colonel Tong turned to Askido laughing,” I like this young man, straight to the point.”
“Probably his Harvard training,” Askido said smiling. “Harvard?” Colonel Tong said impressed.
“Yes sir,” Malik said.
“Ok Harvard, down to business, I want five percent of every key you buy, if one key cost you sixty thousand, I want three, just add a five percent Colonel Tax to whatever you buy,” Colonel Tong said smiling.
“What do we get for the five percent?” Malik asked.
“Mainly my good will and the good will of the Thai Police and Thai Custom officers, who work under me. I will issue you passes so you won’t have to wait at the airport in the custom lines and a police car will take you from the hotel to the airport and through customs, Thailand can be very dangerous.”
“That’s a lot of money for a taxi,” Malik said.
Tongs words were loud and clear and he obviously was enjoying having center stage.
“Smiling at the two police officers who hadn’t move from their station he said, “That’s what Morressy thought also, that’s why he is, where he is, it doesn’t pay to be greedy,” he said waiving a finger and looking sad eyed before emitting a hearty, rattling, smokers laugh.
“Is that a real hand grenade,” Pops asked pointing at the gray hand grenade on Colonel Tong’s desk.
“Yes it is, it’s a memento of my brother who died fighting the American in Vietnam,” Colonel Tong answered proudly.
Extending his hand to Tong, Malik said, “Thank you sir for your time, we’ll get back to you, Can we have lunch tomorrow Askido and let you know our decision?” Malik ask.
“Sure,” Askido answered.
Pops and Malik leaves the room.
“You were cool man, real cool, what do we do now?” Pops asked.
“Wait, the Colonel will come down on his price.”
“How can you be sure?” Pops asked.
“We’re the best deal in town and he’s greedy,” Malik answered.

That night Askido called and told Malik that Tong had lowered his price to three percent and she said that he told her that he knew they were just starting and he would give them time to build the business up. They could always adjust their prices later.
“What should I tell him?” she asked Malik.
Malik told her to tell Tong the deal was on.

Chapter 25

Henry and his son got dressed and went to see Mayor Washburn when they arrived at his office, which was located in the rear of his store five minutes before noon, his secretary Mrs. Rosemont greeted them and knocked on the mayor’s door,
“Mr. Warren and his son is here, mayor,” she said.
“You’ll come on in,” a gruff voice inside yelled.
Mayor Washburn was a frail looking man and his face was always beak red, some say because of the amount of moonshine he drunk from his stills out in the woods. He had a patch of gray hair around a baldhead, but despite his frail looks; Mayor Washburn was highly respected in Stuttgart and in Little Rock. He was the ultimate small town politician, he always had a coy smile, like a poker player, and you never knew when he was bluffing or had a good hand and he always had a big, fat cigar in his mouth, but nobody could ever remember seeing him smoking it. Henry and the mayor grew up in Stuttgart, and known each other all of their lives.
He motioned Reggie and Henry to sit down in two worn iron back chairs in front of his desk.
“Good afternoon Henry, Reggie, how are the crops going?”
Henry responded for both of them, “Good afternoon, sir, the crops are doing well, should be a good harvest.”
“Well, that’s good; I’ll get right to the point, Henry. My Rachael is in love with your boy Reggie and she told her mama and me last night over supper that she is in love with him and they are going to get married and he will be the father of my grand chillums’, I thought my wife was going to have a heart attack. My Rachael also said that Reggie is concerned about the Klux, now Henry we have been here all our lives and we both know how White folks feel about nigger boys and white women.”
“Yes sir, I have warned my boy about it,” Henry said.
Reggie started to become even more uncomfortable in the hard chair and he switched his position.
“You comfortable boy,” the mayor asked.
“Yes sir,” Reggie responded.
“What you got to say about all this, boy,” the mayor asked turning his attention to Reggie.
“I have told Rachael that what she wants to do won’t work but she insists, I don’t know what else to do or say to her,” Reggie responded.
“My Rachael is stubborn and determined;” the mayor said smiling, “Ain’t she?”
“So you haven’t encouraged her in this?”
“No sir.”
“How do you feel about her?” the mayor asked Reggie.
“Truly sir, I haven’t allowed myself to think about that, she is very nice and I will admit I am attracted to her spirit, she is so feisty, but I just haven’t thought too much about it.”
“That’s an honest answer, yeah she is feisty, but damn it so hardheaded, but I will tell you this, if Rachael say you’ll are getting married, you’ll are getting married.”
Reggie surprised asked, “What do you want me to do sir?”
“Marry her, damn it you have no choice, now this is what we are going to do, I will appoint you to my staff as my Liaison Officer between the Nigger community and the city. I will make the announcement later today and put it in the newspaper, now tomorrow you report here at 8:00 am, wear a clean shirt and tie. After awhile the Klux will know you are my nigger and they won’t bother you, wherever I go, you go.”
“What about Rachael?” Reggie asked.
“In six months you and Rachael will get married and I will build you a house on some bottom land I have, don’t worry about the Klux, I’ll take care of them buggers, see you in the morning.”
Reggie and Henry left the mayor office in shock. The next day Reggie reported to work in a clean white shirt and tie.
“Congratulations Reggie, welcome to the team, Mrs. Rosemont said.
While he waited for the mayor, Mrs. Rosemont gave him a cup of coffee and he read the Stuttgart newspapers. The front-page headlines read, “Mayor Washburn appoints Reginald Warren Community Liaison Officer between the Nigger and white community.”
Before Reggie could finish drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper, Mayor Washburn entered the office.
“Good morning everyone ready to