The fitters learned about it in the kitchen and passed it over the surveyors, who in turn passed it back to the skinny saw manager, convincing him that he was correct all along. What started to be an innocent suspicion, turned out to be true. The skinny saw manager then passed it back to Richard as a confirmed fact and the next day Richard hide his pasta at the bottom of his back pack, which he then put in a cardboard box under his bench where it could be monitored for most of a day by either him or the Hooligan.
- But why? – He wanted to know. – Where is this evil coming from?
- He hates you because he is afraid of you. – Explained the skinny saw manager when the saw each other in the kitchen. – Just like the Russians.
- I always knew he was a communist. – Richard replied instinctively.
- He hates your way of life. – Added the skinny saw manager. – Just like the Russians.
The skinny saw manager fed it back to the fitters that the wood shop manager was a communist and although he could not prove it, the wood shop manager could not deny it either. The wood shop manager was guilty of poisoning Richard's food on a basis of his previous record and to make things even, the black man had his points deducted while hiding behind a silly guard attracting Hooligan's jab. The justice was served and a deep sense of mistrust entered the building.
Richard wanted to discourage eventual followers. His eyes glowed cynically in search of guilty conscious, methodically calculating everyone's behaviour with cold blooded accuracy of a mind possessed by the unknown. No one was safe. Every gesture Richard noticed had been evaluated, stored and cross - examined. Every smile he saw, measured with an equal mistrust. Exchanges, which otherwise would not caught his attention, were rewound and analysed. It was a Sisyphean work requiring herculean effort. His chiselled face hardened and his productivity dropped. The Managing Director had to do something about it.
- And Ron's too – Lucy added assertively without a smile or a sign of surprise on her beautiful face. The managing director sat behind his desk like a fat Buddha in pink shirt.
- They poisoned him? – He asked again.
- And Ron's too – Lucy added again. She was a very precise lady with a precise make up making precisely the kind of impression she wanted to make, of a devoted office professional focused solely on facts. The Managing Director placed both hands on his large belly. His thumbs started circling around each other in quick noiseless move. He smacked his lips and said:
- How do they know that?
- Someone stirred their food. – Lucy replied.
- Someone stirred their food? – The managing Director raised his eyebrows.
- Richard pours his sauce over pasta. He opened his container and pasta was mixed together with the sauce.
- Did he eat it?
- He said, he is not that stupid.
- So how does he know someone wanted to poison him?
- He felt week all day. – Lucy explained obediently.
The Managing Director frowned.
- Obviously, if he did not eat anything all day then, yes, he will be weak.
- I have got pictures. Pasta is definitely mixed up with the sauce. I have already taken statements from them.
- And what about Ron? – He asked impatiently after a moment of silence.
- Someone added hot Tabasco to his sandwich. He burned his mouth.
- Does he use Tabasco?
- He says he does not.
6 Richard the Great
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