Felix had arranged the meeting by emailing Jacob Kennedy from the computer in the refugee centre's lobby. Four weeks dragged by before Jacob replied, agreeing to five minutes—no more. They sat in the common room of the parliament building.
Felix knew Jacob was a busy man, his schedule filled with decisions that affected millions. Yet Felix's questions burned inside him, robbing him of sleep night after night.
Felix asked Jacob Kennedy as he sipped his mug of coffee. "Jacob. Why did you refuse to sell Purple Island to Lolita?"
"Intermarium is nowhere near the island," Jacob replied evenly. "She wanted it as her personal offshore wine cellar—zero taxes on shipments, endless cases flowing without cost. I'm not giving a tax advantage to an alcoholic. She needs to sober up. I'm not subsidizing her bar tab."
"Do you know why she bombed the Island?"
"It was spite. She offered two hundred million; the island is worth billions. I refused, and she responded by bombing it." Jacob's green eyes were tense. "It pains me deeply to think of the civilians who lost their lives because of this."
"If you'd given her what she wanted, it could've prevented a war—"
"I'm not yielding to unreasonable demands." Jacob's tone was firm but not unkind. "Felix, I like you, but you're not a ruler. You don't yet understand how politics works between nations—compromises have costs, and so do refusals."
Felix stared at his red and white sneakers. "It's just, I didn't want to be drafted to go to war. I have nightmares that haunt me."
"I understand," Jacob said softly. "No one wants to face that. But sometimes war between nations becomes inevitable. Yesmin Trixie shouldn't have loaned Lolita the money in the first place."
"The loan was for flood victims—"
"She spent it on herself." Jacob's tone turned bitter. "Hiring extra staff for her castle so she doesn't have to lift a finger. She needs to grow up—clean her own room, pay her people fairly instead of pennies. She's lazy, entitled. And now look where we are."
He glanced at his gold wristwatch, the face catching the light. "I have to go. Meeting with Samuel."
Felix blinked. "Who's he?"
"Ruler of Anua. Trade agreements—boring, but necessary."
Jacob stood. Two security officers materialized at the doorway. Felix rose too, feeling small.
As the escort led him out, Felix realized he'd gotten barely three minutes—and his most important questions still burned unanswered.