Jaws of the Tiger Page 19

  Messier went behind the counter, opened a side drawer and reached in. “Voilà,” said Messier, handing two USB sticks to Dulac. “One for the emails, the other for the phone calls and numbers.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What did you expect? Gift wrapping and sworn affidavits of authenticity?”

  Dulac grinned, pulled a white envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Messier.

  Messier folded it and shoved it in his pants pocket.

  “Aren’t you going to count it?”

  Messier smiled at Dulac. “If one can’t trust an Interpol agent—”

  Dulac looked at the USB sticks. “Anything in particular?”

  “I didn’t have time to check thoroughly, but one thing piqued my curiosity.”

  “Which is?”

  Messier reached down, took out a dust cloth and wiped the glass countertop. “There are calls made to Switzerland to a company answering service. I tried to get someone on the line, but no one answers. It’s Mira something.”

  “Mirolet?”

  Messier stopped dusting and looked at Dulac. “That’s it. Mirolet SA.”

  “Jesus.” Dulac’s mind reeled, absorbing the impact of the news. “Who called?”

  “That’s what’s strange. The other calls were made either through the company’s switchboard or direct dialing, but the calls to Mirolet were made through an encrypted number, so I couldn’t trace the calls.”

  “Very interesting. What does it take to find out?”

  “Can’t do that without the company log.”

  “And that means a search warrant.”

  “Yes, but you might get the number through cross-references with emails.”

  “Somehow I doubt it.”

  Chapter 51

  P & W Headquarters

  It took Bolding two days to fully recover from his binge. He stayed at home, half-convincing himself he could better weather the impending storm from the relative quiet of Addington Manor. The morning newspaper had changed that. Now Bolding, his tie loosely tied, his shirt collar open, was sitting in the rear of the Bentley on his way to the office to face the music, feeling his anger mount as he read the Southampton Times’ headline article: P & W Faces Bankruptcy. The words screamed at him as he read the article, which cited an anonymous source. Goddam weasel. I wonder how much he got for that. He pulled his cell from his pocket and called his secretary.

  “Have Mills and Owens meet me in the small conference room.”

  He pressed the end-call button and shoved the phone back into his jacket pocket. Twenty minutes later the Bentley approached Caravan House, and Bolding could see a bevy of reporters and cameramen waiting in front of the glass doors of the building. When the reporters saw the dark blue Bentley approach the curb, they turned and rushed down the steps to the street.

  “Shall I drive to the rear entrance, sir?” asked the chauffeur.

  “No, I’ll have to face them at some point. Might as well be now.” Bolding opened the rear door, exited the car and was immediately surrounded by a flock of microphones.

  “Is it true P & W is bankrupt?” The reporters jockeyed for position, trying to be heard.

  “Not so. We’re considering all of our options.” Bolding hastened his pace towards the entrance.

  “Will the passengers be refunded?”

  “Our standard cancellation policy applies. First and foremost, we have our clients’ interests at heart.”

  “Will P & W be taken over by Carnival?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Are you insured against the class-action lawsuit brought by the passengers?”

  “No comment.”

  Bolding reached the glass doors. The security guard inside ushered him through and quickly closed the doors in the face of the frustrated throng of reporters. Bolding walked across the reception area, hardly acknowledging the receptionist, and took the waiting elevator. He exited on the second floor, turned right and made his way to the small conference room next to his office. Inside, Mills and Owens were talking excitedly as Bolding entered.

  “Anyone know about this?” Bolding waved the Southampton Times at them, then pitching the newspaper onto the conference table.

  No one spoke.

  “So what’s happening, people? Talk to me for chrissake. Owens?”

  “They’ve seized the Hanover Star”.

  “And Berkeley’s Trust has frozen our accounts and canceled our line of credit,” added Mills.

  “Great. Just wonderful” Bolding turned back to Owens. “What about the other ships? Were you able to get them to sea?”

  “Yes sir. But we weren’t in time for the Golden Star. She was seized in New York.”

  “Damn.” Bolding walked nervously back and forth in front of the table.

  A woman’s voice came from the doorway. “Excuse me, sir, it’s—”

  Bolding spun around and glared at his secretary. “Now what is it?”

  “Sorry sir. I, I have Mr. Toombs on the line. He said it’s urgent.”

  “Put him through. No, on second thought I’ll take the call in my office. In the meantime, get Jane and David up here.”

  Bolding brushed past his secretary, taking off his jacket as he rushed to his office. He slammed the door shut and threw the jacket onto one of the chairs before sitting down at his desk and answering the phone. The nasal voice of his solicitor Andrew Toombs did nothing to calm his temper.

  “Hello Sir Adrian. I’m looking at today’s papers. How is it at your end?”

  “Catastrophic would be putting it mildly. What’s up?”

  “I just got off the phone with my colleague Arnold Smith at Baker, McKittrich, the lawyers defending the US government in the Bezorban class action. I—”

  “Listen Andrew, I’m in a crisis meeting with my people. I don’t have time for—”

  “Just to let you know that Smith hinted at an offer to join forces against the passenger claimants. Save some legal fees and give P & W the highest possible level of legal representation, is how he put it. Insulting bastard. I nearly hung up in his face, but as your lawyer, I’m duty bound to report this to you.”

  Bolding settled down a little. “I think I understand what lies beneath their kind offer but tell me anyway.”

  “That would prevent us taking recourse against the US government. So this started a discussion between members of our firm, and one of our junior lawyers here had an idea. She thinks there may be a way out of your predicament.”

  Bolding’s impatience was mollified by his curiosity: “Really? Tell me more.”

  “What’s your financial situation?”

  “We’ve had our line of credit cancelled and four ships seized. I expect the others to be seized as soon as they reach port. “

  “Our plan would take a bit of bluffing to carry you through, but it’s absolutely essential that you buy more time.”

  “How much time are we talking about?”

  “At least a week.”

  “A week? I’ll be glad if I survive till tomorrow.”

  “Whatever. Can you fake a bid for some bridge financing?”

  “We can try. What’s this plan of yours?”

  “It would be better if we met. Perhaps we can come over.”

  “How fast can you get here?”

  “In say, twenty minutes?”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Bolding hung up.

  * * *

  Bolding went to the small conference room, his spirit slightly buoyed by his conversation with Toombs. He stood at the head of the oval table, facing his key officers. Bolding took a sip from the glass of water beside him. For a moment, he stared down at the table, seemingly gathering his thoughts. All waited expectantly, until finally he looked up and spoke in a grave but steady tone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, over the years we have worked together to make P & W one of the stellar cruise ship fleets of the world. We’ve all prospered, and I can say without undue boasting that you have found m
e to be appreciative, including the terms of your remunerations. But now we are at a crossroads. These next few days will be crucial in determining whether we will survive or not.” Bolding took another sip of water. “I will need your complete support to carry P & W through these times, but with it I am confident we can pull through. I have just gotten off the phone with our solicitor Andrew Toombs, and he has a plan which might help us avoid the abyss. He’ll be over shortly.” Bolding took another sip of water.

  “But before we proceed, I must be assured of your complete loyalty. I don’t want another leak like this piece of crap.” He picked up his copy of the Southampton Times, waved it menacingly and slapped it back down onto the table. “I want a commitment from each of you that you won’t abandon ship.”

  Bolding eyed Owens. “Dick?”

  “I’m in,” said Owens.

  “Jane?”

  “Yes, Sir Adrian.” Jane Davies, Director of Personnel and Communications, nodded.

  Bolding eyed his Vice-President of Finance. “Allister?”

  “I… yes, of course.”

  “David?” Bolding turned to his right and addressed Winston, his Chief Security officer.

  “I’m with you.”

  Bolding eyed Mills again. “Good. Now I want you, Allister, to contact BNP Bank, all the other major banks and send them a request for bridge financing for 30 million pounds, a 6 million pounds line of credit, and—”

  “Excuse me, Sir Adrian, but is there something here I don’t understand?” Mills looked dumbfounded. “We have no assets to offer that aren’t either seized or garnished. We—”

  “We must buy time. We must act as if we’re going to survive. My grandfather once told me the illusion of financial solidity is as good as the real thing, at least for a while. If my grandfather could pull it off when P & W was on the verge of bankruptcy in 1927, so can we.”

  “But they will surely ask what guarantees we can offer. What do I tell them?”

  “Allister, we just have to start the process. Tell them you have reserves, unencumbered receivables coming in shortly. Tell them the government is thinking about backing us because if it doesn’t, the unions will scream bloody murder. Be creative, Allister.” Bolding turned to Winney. “In the meantime, let’s go over our communications strategy. Jane, what’s your plan?”

  * * *

  Winney was in the middle of her presentation when Bolding’s secretary announced that Toombs and another lawyer had arrived.

  “Show them in,” said Bolding.

  Moments later, Toombs and a tall, beautiful woman with shoulder length, blond hair stood at the entrance of the room. All eyes shifted to the woman, her beige two-piece silk suit a proper cut of lawyerly sobriety that still hinted at the curves of her body.

  “You’re just in time, Andrew,” said Bolding.

  Toombs turned towards the blonde. “Ladies, gentlemen. Meet Sarah Froome from our litigation department. She has some information we’d like to share with you.”

  Froome acknowledged them with a curt nod and flashed a quick smile of perfect teeth before she and Toombs settled in at the table.

  “Mr. Toombs has briefed me on the present situation at P & W,” said Froome. “As part of another file, I’ve been doing some research on legal actions taken by companies in financial difficulty. I think this research just might apply to P & W’s present circumstances.”

  “And what does that involve?” said Mills.

  “We’d be suing the US Government for gross negligence in using an untested, unsafe paralyzing gas, namely Bezorban, and destroying your business in the process. But first, we’d have to secure the services of a large firm such as Phillips and Kent. They’re the top international claims lawyers in the country. That would tell everyone we’re playing in the big leagues. They’d file suits in London and New York as soon as the claim is drafted.”

  “Again, I hate to be a naysayer,” said Mills, “but if they’ve read about P & W in the papers, won’t they refuse to represent a client who may go under at any time?”

  Froome clearly didn’t appreciate Mills’ question. “With all the publicity they’ll get, it shouldn’t be hard to convince them to go in on a contingency basis.”

  Everyone was silent as they waited for Bolding’s reaction.

  “Assuming they accept, what would be the next steps?” he asked.

  “I’ve prepared a working paper on the heads of action of our claim,” said Froome.

  “How much is our claim”?

  “Four billion pounds.”

  Another silence in the room. Everyone looked fixedly at Froome, then at Toombs. Finally, Bolding broke the spell.

  “What are our chances, Mr. Toombs?”

  “Ms. Froome?” said Toombs.

  “From what I’ve seen, fair to good. Of course this will never go to court because the US government will lose, so it will eventually boil down to how much P & W will settle for.”

  “Surely the Americans will dig in their heels and drag this on forever,” said Mills. “They’ll delay this until we fold.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Froome. “That’s where the bridge financing comes in. Plus we can request a fast track hearing in the US.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months,” said Bolding.

  “Again, I hate to be the devil’s advocate, miss Froome,” said Mills, “but even if what you say is true and all goes according to your plan, what if P & W is forced into bankruptcy before we settle with the US government?”

  “That’s exactly why P & W is not going to go bankrupt, Mr. Mills.” Froome’s voice was firm and no-nonsense.

  “I think I’m beginning to follow,” said Bolding. “You’re saying that P & W is worth more, a lot more, as a going concern, even if somewhat a limping one, than its balance sheet shows.”

  “Exactly, Sir Adrian,” said Froome. “My advice is to get as much publicity on the lawsuit as you can as quickly as possible. Berkeley’s Trust will wait to see the progression of the lawsuit before pulling the plug. If all goes according plan, the banks will be at your doorstep, tending a helping hand.”

  Mills continued to look dubiously at Froome, who saw his hesitation and offered more assurances.

  “Mr. Mills a lawsuit, especially when it’s large, can be a company’s biggest asset.”

  Bolding felt a wave of relief surge up his spine. He turned to Davies. “Jane, contact the newspapers and coordinate with Froome. Let’s get some positive spin out there.”

  Chapter 52

  Lyon, Dulac’s apartment

  Dulac temporarily parked his professional conscience in a faraway place and opened his computer. He began to carefully study the first of the USB sticks Messier had given him. The emails were innocuous, business-related, run-of-the-mill. What he was hoping to find was definitely not there.

  He took the stick from his computer and inserted the next one, containing the phone numbers and names of callers. Messier had categorized them by dates:

  Date – Mills to Bolding

  Date – Mills to Bankers Trust

  Date – Mills to __ Insurance

  Date – Toombs to Mills

  Date – Bankers Trust to Mills, etc...

  Dulac scanned through the other calls quickly, until suddenly his curiosity was aroused:

  Date – Mills to unregistered phone.

  Date – Unregistered phone to Mills

  Date – Unregistered phone to Mills

  Date – London payphone to Mills

  Interesting. This is worth checking out.

  Dulac scanned through the other officers’ calls:

  Date – Owens to Toombs

  Date – Owens to NY Port authority

  Date – Owens to Southampton Port Authority

  Etc… Etc…

  The other calls seemed to be in the ordinary course of business. He returned to the beginning of the stick:

  Date – Mills to unregistered phone.

  Dulac picked up the phone a
nd dialed Messier’s number. “Henri, it’s me. Nice work on the calls.”

  “We aim to please.”

  “Henri, I have a purely hypothetical question. This is a bit dicey, but could you get the name of the owner of the unregistered phone?”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Henri?”

  “That could be breaking the law.”

  “I’m not asking you to do so. I was just wondering if it were physically possible.”

  Dulac heard a guffaw of laughter from Messier. “That will be another 1000 euros.”

  Dulac thought hard and quick. If he accepted Messier’s price, he was setting himself up as an accomplice to Messier’s illegal action. He took a deep breath. He didn’t have time to find out what he most likely didn’t want to know anyway. “When do I get it?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  * * *

  Dulac had only just shut his phone when it began ringing again. He recognized Sabine Autissier’s encrypted number. “Yes Sabine.”

  “You asked me to track down the rent payments in relation to Mirolet SA in Zurich.”

  “Ah yes, our Swiss miscreant.”

  “We were able to track down through our bank contact at Bank Leu the name of the landlord and—”

  “The bottom line, Sabine.”

  “The bottom line is that Mirolet’s rent cheques are signed by an Andrew Toombs, acting for and on behalf of a numbered company. He’s a solicitor practicing in Southampton and—”

  Dulac let out a loud whistle: “— and is P & W’s solicitor. Great work, Sabine.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Dulac went to the bank to get Messier’s cash. After returning to his apartment, he gathered the various components of his expeditious dinner on the kitchen table: three slices of turkey, a wedge of brie cheese, a piece of baguette bread and a handful of olives. The TV was on the local channel, and Dulac was busy spreading a layer of Dijon mustard onto the halves of the baguette when something caught his attention on the screen. A group of policemen were closing off the area in the front of a store, and two ambulance attendants were ferrying a covered body on a wheeled stretcher towards the nearby ambulance. The camera focused on the front of the store.