‘This island has worked the same way for a very long time,’ he said finally.
‘And you’re not prepared to do anything to stop it,’ said Jim bluntly.
Martin’s face was unreadable. Jim decided that the best way to proceed was to flatter him into making him think he could make a difference.
‘Roberts is extorting money from every single business on this island, Leonard. Businesses do not thrive when they are being squeezed by criminals. And if businesses don’t thrive, Baruda isn’t going to thrive.’
‘I think we’re doing all right so far,’ he replied. ‘For a tiny island with no airport.’
‘But it could be so much more than a Caribbean backwater. Baruda could be the new Turks, the new Cayman Islands . . .’
He hesitated. He didn’t want to be too provocative, but Leonard Martin was no pushover. Like all politicians, he had got to where he was in life by cosying up to the people who could do the most for him.
‘I’ve done a bit of research about Baruda, Leonard. I know the police chief is your brother-in-law . . .’
‘What are you implying?’ Martin said with a frown.
‘That your family has power, influence. If you choose to use it in the right way.’
Jim had no intention of stopping now.
‘How does it work, Leonard? You turn a blind eye to Marshall’s business in return for a kick-back?’
He didn’t pause for the mayor to answer.
‘You know, I don’t blame you. It’s how it works around here, isn’t it? It’s how it works all around the world.’ He kept his voice low and level. ‘But do you think this is going to end well for you, Leonard? What happens if you do something that doesn’t please Marshall Roberts? If you piss him off? You go the same way as Daniel Verrander, one of our staff who was put in hospital by Marshall’s men.’
‘You’ve been watching too much Miami Vice, Mr Johnson,’ said Leonard wearily, putting down his knife and fork.
‘I know there’s a better way to deal with men like Marshall Roberts. Better for you, for your brother-in-law, for the people of this island.’
‘The system works.’
‘For you and for Marshall perhaps.’
Martin leaned forward in his chair. His fist was clenched, his expression anxious.
‘I can’t,’ he said urgently.
Jim saw a chink.
‘Why not? You are the most powerful man on this island. Not Marshall Roberts. What you say goes. Marshall is one man and a team of goons. That’s no match for your police force, your ruling council, the people of this island, who are sick to death of living in fear.’
Leonard’s face hardened. ‘And who supplements our losses?’
‘Your losses?’
‘How much do you think a public servant earns around here, Mr Johnson?’
Jim shrugged.
‘I have a family with needs,’ Martin said, as if that was a perfectly rational explanation for accepting bribes from a criminal. ‘My wife wants a Mercedes, my son a speedboat. My daughter, my little girl . . . She wants Richie Hawkins to perform at her Sweet Sixteen party, although she’s going to have to make do with a jeep. All these things cost money, and without Marshall’s contributions who is going to pay for them? You?’
Jim tried to do some quick mental calculations, but then he had an idea.
‘Your daughter likes Richie Hawkins?’
‘She’s his biggest fan,’ Martin said, rolling his eyes like any weary parent of a teenage girl.