The CEO

  He pushed the CVs aside, closed his eyes and smiled, as he thought about the meeting with the bank and Colin Sarll in the morning.

  “That must have been a nice thought,” Barbara said, kissing him lightly on the lips. She was dressed in snug-fitting black slacks and a turquoise silk blouse and he momentarily appreciated how attractive she was.

  “I didn’t hear the garage doors. How was the Orientation night?”

  “Oh, it was wonderful. You can’t imagine how happy you’ve made Mark, and Trevor just loves the car you bought him. How was your day?”

  “The same.”

  “I thought it might have been a little better. You were only on one TV station tonight.”

  “TV station?”

  “Yes they showed those dreadful picketers blocking you this morning, and the eggs smashing on your windscreen. Dreadful louts.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, and it was only one egg.” He grinned. “I guess they made it look worse for the six o’clock news.” The removal of the money pressures had obviously brightened Barbara’s life, and she was actually expressing support for him. He wondered what the sting would be.

  “Jamie and Sue Wallace have invited us to a dinner party on Saturday night. I said we’d be there.”

  “You said what? Christ, Barbara, how many times do I have to tell you I can’t stand your snooty-nosed friends? I can’t go anyhow, I have to be in Sydney this weekend,” he lied.

  “We never do anything together anymore,” she groaned.

  “Hey, it’s a bit late for happy families now. You have your friends and your life, and I have mine, and we’ve both got the kids. You can go to the Wallaces dinner party if you like.”

  “What, by myself? You know I can’t do that. I’ll be the only one there without a partner. How do you think I’ll feel?”

  “If memory serves me weren’t you and Jamie Wallace once an item? This could be an opportunity for you to get re-acquainted.” He smirked.

  “We went out a few times. We were never an item, and it was long before I knew you.”

  Her eyes welled up and he started to shuffle through the papers on his desk. “I’ve got a lot to get through. We’ll talk after,” he said, knowing they wouldn’t.

  “Alright,” she sniffled. “Would you like coffee before I go to bed?”

  “No thanks. Goodnight,” he said, his tone polite but cold.

  There was no sign of the picketers as he eased the Ferrari through the gates. Shirley had left a long message from Max Vogel on his desk. It had gone very well at the Industrial Relations Commission, and proceedings would continue today. The commissioner had been critical of the company breaching the enterprise bargaining agreement and, not consulting with the union before making the retrenchments. Despite this, the union’s claims for reinstatement and increased retrenchment benefits had fallen on deaf ears. Max had, on behalf of the company, given the commissioner an undertaking not to retrench any more employees while proceedings were underway. Aspine read the message again with satisfaction. It was going better than he’d anticipated, and he doubted there’d be any press or television coverage today. Yesterday’s newspapers are today’s fish wrappers!

  Shirley buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. “I have Mr Smythe for you.”

  “Good morning, Douglas. What did you think of the candidates?”

  “I like the sales guy, Brad Hooper, a lot. I don’t know about the sales manager’s position though.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought too. What about the financial controller?”

  “I was most impressed by the young guy, Kerry Barrett.”

  “It’s Bartlett not Barrett. Yes, technically he’s very good, but he lacks confidence and aplomb. He’ll be way out of his depth addressing merchant bankers and stockbrokers about the company’s prospects. I think he’d make a good assistant.”

  “Jeremy, I think he’s the type who’ll grow with and into the position. Besides, I’ll be the one talking to the money men in Collins and Pitt Streets.”

  “Would you like to interview the others? They’re very good and vastly more experienced than young Kerry.”

  “No. Organize interviews at your offices this Monday afternoon for the two candidates I’ve nominated.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Do you have anyone on your books who fits my PA requirements?” Aspine whispered.

  “Yes, I have two women who are clever, charismatic and well groomed. One of them has had twenty years experience with...”

  “Too old,” Aspine interrupted. “Tell me about the other one.”

  “They’re both in their late thirties. They’re savvy, attractive, and have held senior positions in companies far larger than Mercury. There’s no semblance to Shirley, and I’m not even sure that they’d accept a position with you.”

  “They’re old boilers! I thought I told you less than thirty but, if I didn’t, I am now,” Aspine chuckled, knowing that Jeremy would be cringing.

  A loud sigh came down the phone line. “I’ll get back to you, Douglas.”

  Aspine had barely put the phone down when Shirley buzzed again. “Mr Kendall, from the bank is here for his nine-thirty appointment.”

  “Let him know I’m running a few minutes late.” He smiled. He was going to enjoy this meeting.

  The phone rang twice before Charlie answered. “Hello.”

  “Why haven’t you phoned me?” Aspine demanded.

  “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t think I’d hear from you again after Friday night.”

  “Christ, come on, I sent you flowers didn’t I?”

  “You think a few flowers is a fair trade-off for punching me in the face and raping me on the floor,” she said, her voice bitter and angry.

  “I-I didn’t know. Shit, it was the piss.”

  “You don’t even remember what you did, you bastard! Don’t you remember seeing that Jeczik woman on television, and then going crazy? You need help. You’re a sick, sick man.”

  “I was drunk. Charlie, you know I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head.”

  “Yes, you sure proved that.”

  “I’ll give away the booze. It’ll never happen again.”

  “I want you out of my life. I’m going back to work again. I don’t need you.”

  He bit his tongue hard, fighting back the urge to tell her that she would never earn enough to live in the lifestyle that she’d become accustomed to. “Don’t do anything rash. Think about it.”

  “You’re always violent and nasty when you’re drunk. How do I know you won’t hit me again?”

  “I just told you, I’m giving up the booze.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “I’m going to Sydney on Friday night. Come with me. I’ll take you on a shopping spree. Come on, let me make it up to you. If you still feel like splitting after the weekend, I won’t stand in your way.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it and get back to you,” she said. The annoyance was still in her voice but the bitterness wasn’t.

  “I’ll be waiting for your call.” He smiled, confident that she’d say yes.

  He checked his watch. It was nearly ten o’clock and he had kept the bankers waiting long enough. “Shirley, pick up the phone,” he said into the intercom. “I want you to book flights to Sydney for Ms Charlene Deering and myself, on Friday night, returning Sunday evening. Organize a hire car and book a suite at the Park-Hyatt for Friday and Saturday nights.”

  “Who will I charge it ...?”

  Before she could finish he said, “Show Mr Kendall in.”

  Phil Kendall was younger than Aspine had expected. Early thirties he guessed; tall and gangly, with sandy hair, freckles and a boyish smile.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting Phil,” Aspine lied, surprised at the strength of the young man’s handshake. He shook Jonathan’s hand warmly while completely ignoring Colin Sarll.

  “That’s okay, Doug. We know how busy you’ve been. How can we help you?” Kendall responded, taking
a seat.

  “I intend to expand the operations of the company significantly. We’re a top-two hundred-company, but by the end of the year we’ll be top-one-hundred, and by the end of the following year I’m aiming at top-fifty. Now, I can’t do that without having access to funds.”

  “I’m sure we can accommodate you with some of our loan products.”

  “You’re holding a debenture over the company’s assets, you’ve got mortgages over all its real estate, you provide virtually no loan funds, and a shitty little stand-by facility. The other banks would kill for an account like this, and you know it!”

  “The company’s never been a big borrower. Harry ran it in a very conservative manner and didn’t like borrowing.”

  “Why then are you holding a shit-load of security when you’re not providing anything for it?”

  “It probably just built up over the years, and the company never asked for discharges.”

  “And you never volunteered them. Does the company have an offset facility when you calculate interest charges on its various accounts?”

  “No. It was never asked for.”

  “So let me get this clear. You charge interest on the company’s overdrawn accounts, but don’t offset it against the credit balances in the other accounts. So at the end of the day you actually charge interest on a net credit balance while having the use of funds to lend to others. That’s great banking. Why don’t you tell me what other cute deals the bank has with the company, which aren’t quite so obvious?”

  “You don’t understand. That was the way Harry, and Neil Widge, liked to run the company. They knew they only had to ask, and we would have been more than willing to provide increased facilities.”

  “What about the offset of interest?”

  “That’s something which was just overlooked. I’ll get it fixed when I get back to my office.”

  “I want it backdated, and I want a credit for every cent you overcharged.”

  “Hang on, we can’t ...”

  “Yes you can, and you will, if you want to retain the company’s banking,” Aspine interrupted.

  “How far back do you expect us to go?”

  “How long did you say the company’s banked with you?”

  “Fifty years.”

  Aspine smiled and didn’t say a word, as he watched Phil Kendall shift nervously in his chair.

  “We’ll go back as far as our records permit. Probably about six years. You know it won’t be a large credit. I doubt it’ll be much more than a hundred thousand.”

  “So you don’t consider a hundred thousand a great deal of money, Phil,” Aspine said, for the first time turning his gaze to Colin Sarll.

  “I didn’t say ....”

  Aspine cut him off before he could finish. “Jonathan’s been handling my personal banking. Would that switch to you?”

  “Yes,” replied Kendall, visibly tensing. “We think it’s a good idea to have the banking of our major corporate clients, and their executives, under one roof.”

  “So if I needed a personal loan of one hundred thousand dollars, there’d be no problem?”

  “Of course not. Look, what occurred with Colin was just a misunderstanding.”

  “There was no misunderstanding. He point blank refused,” Aspine snarled.

  “But your circumstances have changed.”

  “What’s that mean, Phil? Are you saying you would’ve refused the loan if I hadn’t got this job?”

  “No, no, I’m not.”

  “So you’re saying he fucked up then?”

  “Mr Aspine, I’m really sorry we got off on the wrong track,” Sarll sniffled.

  “No you’re not, you little prick. You’re sorry I got this job, you’re sorry you’re sitting in that chair, and you’re sorry Phil’s here. Did you tell him you called me a thug?”

  “What, what? You didn’t say anything about that,” Kendall said, eyeballing Sarll.

  “I-I said it in the heat of the moment. That’s right, isn’t it Jonathan?”

  Jonathan Bardon had six months to go to retirement, and had no intention of upsetting Phil Kendall and being sacked without all of his benefits. He moved uneasily in his chair before saying, “I don’t think you should have said it.”

  Aspine smirked as he watched Sarll grovel. “Phil, I’d like a word in private.”

  Sarll almost jumped out of his chair, and Jonathan was also relieved to be out of the firing line. As the door closed, Aspine said, “You can see how difficult it would be for me to keep the company’s banking with you. It’s a shame really because it’s going to need access to significant loan funds.”

  “No, I can’t. You won’t have to ever deal with Colin Sarll again. I’ll be handling the company’s account and your personal account. We’d like to help you with the company’s loan requirements.”

  “I’m sure you would, but I don’t know whether I could deal with a bank that calls and treats its clients as thugs.”

  “You want me to sack him?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Do we get to keep the company’s business if I do?”

  “I can’t guarantee it but, if you don’t you’ll definitely lose it,” Aspine said, his mouth set in a grim line.

  Kendall grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Do that, but don’t think you can shift him interstate or overseas without me knowing.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, there is. I want a platinum credit card for my wife, Barbara, with a limit of one hundred thousand dollars. Can you organize it?”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Come back to me if you’re interested in retaining the company’s business.” Aspine smiled, knowing Kendall knew what he had to do.

  “I’ll get back to you,” Kendall said, standing and extending his hand.

  Phillip Kendall cursed loudly as he opened the door to his car. Douglas Aspine was nothing more than a power-crazed egomaniac, and Colin Sarll had just been doing his job. He slammed the door, knowing that he had no choice if he wanted to remain on the fast track at the bank. If he lost the business of a top-two-hundred-company, his bosses would ship him off to Yarrawonga.

  - 9 -

  IT WAS EXACTLY 9am when Aspine entered the boardroom. Sir Edwin was sitting at one end of the long table, Harry Denton at the other, with the lawyer, Stan Pettit, on his left and Dawn O’Rourke, Neil Widge’s former PA, on his right, with minute book in hand. There were three others whom he recognized from photos in the company’s annual reports. He smiled; the one thing they had in common was their hair colour, which, he mused, might be described as Mercury grey.

  “Good morning, Douglas,” Sir Edwin said with a quiver in his voice, motioning him to take the chair to his right.

  The tension was palpable and, as Aspine scanned the faces around the table, they refused to hold his gaze, until he got to Harry. His eyes were bloodshot and angry, but did not drop, and his top lip was curled in a sneer. “Let me introduce you to Andrew Malone, David Cleary and William Claymore,” Sir Edwin said.

  Aspine did not stand or offer his hand, instead he just nodded. They looked old and weak, and he guessed they had not been looking forward to this meeting.

  “Let’s get to the business at hand,” Harry snapped angrily.

  “I thought Sir Edwin was chairman.” Aspine smiled, pushing his chair back from the table, stretching his legs and yawning, while exaggeratedly covering his mouth.

  This only served to infuriate Harry. “We’re not standing on ceremony,” he snarled. “You’ve sacked Neil Widge, retrenched six hundred good employees, ruined our relationship with the union, and brought the media down on us.”

  “Harry, you know that’s not true. Widge resigned, the workforce needed downsizing, and the union’s been touching up the company for years, but our lawyers are giving it a belting in the Industrial Relations Commission. Sure there was a bit of press, but that’s the price of progress. I guess you wouldn’t know
much about that though.”

  “Our lawyers? Stan’s our lawyer. What do you mean our lawyers?”

  “He used to be. I thought there was a conflict, with Stan serving on the company’s board and handling the company’s legal affairs.”

  “What conflict?”

  “I just can’t see Stan voting to sue his own firm if it stuffs up the company’s legal work,” Aspine laughed, “so I solved the problem for him.”

  Stan’s face was red, his forehead was moist and his breathing was laboured. He placed his hand on Harry’s wrist as if to calm him, but it was too late. “Enough! Enough!” shouted Harry. “We met before and we want your resignation, and if you don’t resign we’ll sack you.”

  “The board met?”

  “Yes!”

  “Were you at the meeting, Sir Edwin?” Aspine asked.

  Before Sir Edwin could answer, Harry responded, “That’s not relevant. Five of the company’s directors resolved to terminate your services − one way or the other. We’ll pay you your base salary of eight hundred thousand if you finish up today.”

  “Eight hundred thousand? I’ll earn five million this year, and I’ve got a three year contract. That works out to fifteen million by my reckoning.”

  “Fifteen million! Don’t try and bluff us. You screwed your last employer out of two hundred thousand. You’ll jump at eight hundred.”

  “Is that what Bob Dwyer told you? You’ve been busy, haven’t you, Harry?”

  “Harry, this is not a wise decision,” Sir Edwin intervened. “The media will have a field day, and our shares will be hammered.”