Page 44 of Don't Point at the Moon

When he reached her desk, he realised she had left her desktop computer signed on. He plonked down in her leather seat and tapped a key to stop the screen from timing out. Then he grabbed the mouse, ready to shut everything down, when one of the folders on the bank’s customised desktop caught his eye.

HR Senior Mgt Decisions.

During the afternoon, she had asked him to update and print out details of staff members in all departments. Apart from Helen—and she had only read the proposed package to him—they had not looked at any of their own departmental staff. He’d assumed she’d already dealt with senior employees, maybe done the work from home. Then again, one of Pauline’s admittedly few flaws was that she was hopeless with technology and wouldprobably have struggled to access confidential documents on the bank’s secure network from her home.

But then he remembered. Midway through the afternoon, Pauline had given him money and asked him to go out and get drinks and cookies from the artisan coffee shop a couple of streets away. Told him to treat himself to his favourite choice of coffee in the biggest cardboard cup they had, even though she had a swanky coffee machine in her office. Had she used that opportunity to print the senior management files while he was out of the building? That would undoubtedly be her style.

Maybe the file housed something innocuous, an updated departmental organisational chart. Although bearing in mind the current state of affairs, that seemed unlikely. One click would reveal the truth.

Would anyone know? Would Pauline? And did Mitchell give a damn if she did?

He clicked into the folder, which brought up a short list of spreadsheets, each with the names of senior staff. Both Kate and Helen were there, but listed in alphabetical order by family name, Baxter sat at the top. Without hesitating, he clicked to open the file.

Name: Baxter, Mitchell Angus.

Title: Senior Human Resources Manager, Asia

Other: DOB: 31-08-1985 | Status: Single | Base: Hong Kong

Largely operational experience. Joined Charteris straight from university. Fifteen years with the bank, thirteen worked in Hong Kong supporting the Asia region. Four minor promotions during those years. Loyal staff member, if unremarkable. Risk potential to bank: low.

Options:

1. Remain and rehire: Local head of HK ops position? Knowledgeable and well-respected by staff. Good connectionswith local recruiters. Extensive international labour law knowledge. Lack of broader management and finance skills. English only, no local or Asian languages. Unlikely to be suitable.

2. Relocation: London office, Canary Wharf. Upcoming junior HR management position. Twelve month maternity leave cover.

3. Redundancy: Statutory severance package. Standard local terms.

Proposal: Second option, due to knowledge and experience. But only once transition to reduced office completed in six months.

And there it was, in her own words. Not only was Mitchell not being considered for a role in the reduced Hong Kong operation, but he was expendable. And unlike Helen, he would only have been offered a minimal payout, which would have amounted to no more than a few months’ salary. No special treatment because he was considered low-risk and unlikely to cause problems. Even the position in London would be temporary. And he knew only too well from calls with repatriating colleagues that London might sing the praises of overseas experience, but treated returning colleagues at best like prodigal children, at worst like pariahs. His fate had been sealed. Another six months and he would be shipped back home. Jasmin Hong Kong, he had once carved in a stone on the peak, the word Jasmin code for just another six months. Ironic that the memory of that dark time should come back to haunt him today. Worst of all, seventeen years working for the bank and she had summed him up in that one word.

Unremarkable.

Anger, hurt and a sense of betrayal seethed in his chest. The years of dedicated service, working long hours, often beingcalled during his vacation about work matters and sacrificing weekends had meant nothing. Tirelessly recruiting only the best for prime positions. Never a single day’s sick leave, even working from home while he battled through a nasty dose of the coronavirus. Everything he could do to shine a positive light on the bank. And for what? He wanted to call someone and share the hurt bubbling inside him. Kate might have been the perfect listener, but she had problems of her own. If he called his sister, she might be sympathetic but would always try to find a positive spin, most likely that he would finally be returning home. And he did not want to hear that right now.

Then he remembered somebody who would not only give him sound advice but would probably have forgotten all about the call by morning.

Harold Choi.

The call picked up after two rings, but the voice was not Harold’s.

“William?”

“Yes.”

“Is Harold there?”

“We’re at Queen Mary’s Hospital. Harold's talking to a specialist surgeon about having spinal surgery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Nobody did. It’s all last minute. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, no. I just wanted to chat.”

“Well, I’m afraid he’s better at that than I.”

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