The CEO: White Collar Crime Finance Suspense Thriller

by Peter Ralph

  “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.”

  “I think Ed’s right,” William Claymore said. “Can’t we find another way around this?”

  “No,” Harry scowled. “He’s out of the company today. Make up your mind: are you resigning or do we sack you?”

  Aspine reached down, picked up his brief case, placed it on the table and slowly flicked it open, removing three documents. “This, gentlemen,” he said, “is a copy of a writ, and a supporting statement of claim in the amount of fifteen million dollars.”

  “You’re bluffing,” Harry growled.

  Aspine stood up and picked up the phone from the bookshelves behind him, and hit the loudspeaker button. “Shirley, is there someone waiting for me?”

  “Yes. Mr Des Rankin, from Sly & Vogel.”

  “Put him on.”

  “Hello, Des, what are you doing here?”

  “I have a writ to serve on the company.”

  “Thanks, Des. Don’t leave.”

  “So much for conflicts of interest,” Pettit muttered.

  “Gentleman, I’m not finished,” Aspine said, holding up another document. “This is an announcement to the Stock Exchange that includes details of the writ and the interference of your former CEO in the performance of my duties. Would you like me to read it to you?”

  “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” Harry shouted. “But it’s not going to save you.”

  “Hold on, Harry,” Pettit said. “If this gets out, it’ll be extremely damaging.”

  “That’s right,” Sir Edwin agreed.

  “Think about it, Harry.” Aspine smiled. “Do you really think the institutions will let you and your friends survive, when they know about this? You’ll all be out, and the new board will settle my claim rather than have it dragged through the media.”

  “We can’t do it,” Andrew Malone muttered. “It’ll set the company back years.”

  “You...you can’t let him blackmail us,” Harry snarled, his face black with rage, exacerbated by Aspine’s smiling face.

  “I…I don’t want to get into a fight,” whispered David Cleary, a frail little man who looked twenty years older than he was.

  Sir Edwin caught Aspine’s eye, and he saw the trace of a smile on the knight’s face. “Gentlemen, will I phone Max Vogel and ask him to remove his employee? Or would you prefer he served the writ?”

  Sir Edwin glanced around the table at the defeated faces of Harry’s supporters, before responding. “Tell him to call his Rottweiler off, Douglas, you have no reason to issue.”

  There were tears of anger and frustration in Harry’s eyes, as he stood up and stormed out of the boardroom shouting, “This isn’t over yet.”

  “Is there anything else that anyone would like to raise?” Sir Edwin asked, glancing at his fob watch and then, after a short pause: “I declare this meeting closed at ten-fifteen.”

  “Dawn, don’t minute anything about the writ or statement of claim,” Aspine said. “It serves no purpose.”

  She looked at Sir Edwin, who nodded his assent.

  After the others had left, Sir Edwin said, “That was a superb performance,

  Douglas, but you’ve made some bitter enemies.”

  “That’s the price of change and progress.”

  “Yes, but don’t you think you should slow down and, well how can I put this, use a little more discretion?”

  “No, I don’t. You’re after a quantum improvement in the company’s performance, and I’m going to give it to you. All you have to do is look after my back, and show a little more spine than you did today.”

  “What...what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Ed, you thought they were going to get me today. God, you even struggled to make eye contact with me. If I’d been relying on your support, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “I’m sorry. Harry confronted me before the meeting, and said he’d already met with the other four and the decision was a fait accompli. I never guessed you’d thwart them so effectively. Were you bluffing or would you have issued that writ?”

  “Oh, I would have issued, but that’s water under the bridge. I’d like to get rid of the non-executive directors, and replace them with others who can actually make a contribution.”

  “You know you can’t do that. Only two come up for re-election each year.”

  “Other than Harry, they’re weak. I’ll have their resignations soon enough.”

  “Slowly, slowly, Douglas. First you need to deliver on your promise to increase profits by fifty per cent. After you’ve done that, you’ll be in a much stronger position.”

  On the flight to Sydney, Charlie was aloof, and told Aspine that she was only with him because he had said that he wouldn’t drink. She performed half-heartedly on Friday night, but cheered up after a day’s shopping on Saturday that had really cost him. For dinner, she chose to wear silver stilettos and a stunning black dress which showed just enough flesh to have most of the men in the Park-Hyatt dining room gawking, and their wives berating them. “What do you think of me going back to work?” she asked, leaning forward and exposing the white of her breasts against her deep tan.

  Fuck, he’d spent $8,000-plus on her today. That would be about three months’ pay for her doing anything else other than what she was doing for him. “What do have in mind?” he said, sipping mineral water, while craving for a shot of Jack Daniels.

  “I thought I might try for a PAs position or perhaps I could go into advertising. I’m very innovative and creative you know.”

  He wanted to say yeah, I know, but they don’t pay for X rated innovation. “You could, but I doubt you’d earn enough to pay for the apartment and car on your own.”

  She looked puzzled. “I hadn’t intended to. I thought we’d leave things the way they are, but I’d get a job so I’d have something to keep me interested during the day.”

  He pinched himself hard. She expected him to fork out $60,000 a year for the apartment and car, plus God knows how much on clothes and travel, without being available when he needed relief. The lease on the apartment had only a few weeks to go, and if he stopped the payments on the car it would be repossessed. She’d just about outlived her usefulness, but he wouldn’t say anything yet. Why spoil tonight and tomorrow morning? “I see,” he smiled. “What about your mum’s visits?”

  “She’ll be able to see me at night. That won’t be a problem. I’m glad you’re supportive. I thought you might be angry.”

  Later that night, she nestled into his shoulder and whispered. “Was that good?”

  She had warmed to him a little, but was still restrained, and he wanted to say, it was better than last night, but there’s plenty of room for improvement. “It was great.”

  She snuggled a little deeper into his chest. “Doug.”

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  “How would you feel about a threesome?”

  Maybe he had misjudged her. Some of her girlfriends were stunning, and he wondered who she had in mind. “Honey, if that’s something you want to try, I’ll go along with you.”

  “You’re really good to me,” she said, kissing him.

  “Who do you have in mind?”

  “I don’t think you know him,” she said. “He’s the new pool guy at the apartments.”

  “Guy?” he snapped, angrily pushing her away. “What the fuck are you talking about? You think I’m going to get into bed with another guy? You’re a fucking lunatic.”

  “You hurt me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “What’s gotten into you? I was only teasing. I knew what you’d think when I suggested a threesome.”

  She’d always been totally uninhibited, and maybe the pool guy had already comforted her after that lost Friday night. Well fuck that! “Don’t ever suggest anything like that again,” he growled, turning his ba
ck on her and pulling the blankets tightly around him. He thought he heard her say, ‘If it had been another girl you wouldn’t have got in such a shit,’ but he ignored her. He’d had sex with Charlie for the last time, and his mind had already turned to finding a replacement. He closed his eyes and smiled. Perhaps Jeremy Smythe might have someone on his books.

  -10 -

  CHARLIE HARDLY SPOKE from the time they left Sydney to when Aspine dropped her off at her apartment. Barbara was petulant and pouting when he arrived home, and totally ignored him. He guessed that she’d gone to the Wallaces dinner party by herself and was still expressing her displeasure. As if he fucking cared.

  On Monday morning he paused at the door to Shirley’s office. It was spotlessly clean: the personal photographs had gone, and there were no papers or files on the desk.

  He flicked open his Teledex and phoned the real estate agents managing Charlie’s apartment, and advised them that he was giving one month’s notice of intention to terminate the lease. The first that she would know about it would be when they made contact to seek her consent to inspection from prospective tenants, and then the shit would hit the fan.

  Having evicted Charlie, he then summoned Kurt to his office. “Tell me about Shirley.”

  “She was very upset and emotional. It was very difficult.”

  “I’m not interested in her feelings. How much did you pay her?”

  “Four weeks for every year she was with the company. It worked out to one and a half years salary plus statutory entitlements.”

  “That’s about what I would have paid her. You did well. What was her reaction?”

  “I told you,” Kurt said, a trace of irritation in his voice.

  “Not her emotional reaction. Christ, no female’s ever been fired without turning on the water works. Surely you expected it? Did she say anything about suing?”

  “She’s not a fool. She said her dismissal was harsh and unfair.”

  Aspine laughed. “She left out unreasonable. Go on.”

  “She’s going to see Gater & Salomon. I don’t think we’ve heard the last of her.”

  “She’ll expect them to act for her on a contingency basis and to take their fees out of what they extract. It’s going to be sad news when they tell her they won’t act − at least not without some upfront fees.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “You got her final pay just about right. Even if she wins, she won’t get enough to justify lawyers being involved, and there’s a good chance she’ll actually get nothing. We’ll get one letter of demand from Gater & Salomon, and I’ll get Max Vogel to pen a response telling them to get stuffed. You did well.”

  “I felt terrible. It was like firing family.”

  “Get over it. Heading up human resources isn’t just about employing people.”

  “I know, it’s just that we’ve never had retrenchments and dismissals like this before.”

  “And hopefully they’re over. We had to get rid of the fat, and those who didn’t want to play on the new team. Now we’ve done that, we can get on with the business of making money.”

  “Yes, Mr...Douglas.”

  Jeremy Smythe had converted a double storey mansion in Toorak into a contemporary office suite. He’d had it painted white, set aside the front yard for client parking, and packed the wide veranda with exotic pot plants. The inside was a mix of fine antique furniture, paintings and artefacts, coupled with a sophisticated computer and communication system. The entrance was at the rear, where a family room had been converted into the reception area, complete with marble counter, leather reclining chairs and coffee tables. Aspine parked the Ferrari and got out just as an extraordinarily attractive brunette came down the steps from the veranda. He did not move, admiring her legs and petite, finely shaped body as she walked toward her car. As she opened the door, she looked over her shoulder and caught him staring at her. He thought that he glimpsed a smile, before watching her drive out of the car-park.

  His shoes sunk in deep plush carpet as he entered the reception. Large gold letters on the wall behind the reception counter spelt out ‘Smythe & Associates.’ Two of the three receptionists were answering incessantly ringing phones. The third looked up and asked, “How can I help you?”

  “Douglas Aspine, for Jeremy Smythe.”

  “We’ve been expecting you, Mr Aspine. Can I get you a drink?

  “No thanks.”

  “Please take a seat. Mr Smythe won’t keep you waiting long.”

  He’d just sat down when Jeremy came down the hallway. “Hello, Douglas, come through, we’ll talk in my office. You mightn’t believe it, but we have twenty offices and three boardrooms in this old house.”

  “It’s very impressive.”

  “We try to do our best,” Jeremy sniffled, as if to downplay the millions spent on the conversion.

  “We’re seeing Kerry Bartlett first. He’s due here in five minutes. Are you sure you don’t want to interview either of the other candidates?”

  “Definitely, and I’d prefer to interview him by myself. Do you have a spare office I can use?”

  “Well, if that’s what you’d like, you can use the office two doors down the hallway on the left.”

  “Thanks. Have you discussed salary?”

  “No, he’s currently earning $120,000 as a senior accountant. Are you sure you don’t want me in on the interview?”

  “Positive. What time is the sales guy due?”

  “Brad Hooper’s appointment is in an hour’s time.”

  The intercom buzzed and one of the receptionists’ said. “Mr Smythe, Mr Bartlett is here for his two o’clock appointment.”

  “Get him a coffee, and show him down to the spare office in five minutes.”

  “Have you found me a suitable PA yet?”

  “Not to your exact specification.”

  “There was a stunning brunette leaving as I came in. Did you interview her?”

  “There are over twenty consultants here. She could have been interviewed by any one of them. How do you know she was looking for a PA’s position?”

  “I don’t,” Aspine grinned. “Find out who she is and what position she was interested in.”

  Jeremy exhaled loudly. Aspine stood up and strode down to the spare office where he wrote 160, 200, and 250 on a sheet of paper, and then tore it into three pieces. He then placed them in the drawers on the right hand side of the desk. As he put the 250 piece in the bottom drawer, there was a knock at the door, and one of the receptionists introduced Kerry Bartlett. He looked younger than twenty-nine; perhaps it was the slight acne, the smallness of his stature or the softness of his features. His handshake was limp, and his dark brown eyes couldn’t hold Aspine’s gaze. “Take a seat, Kerry, and tell me why I should employ you as my financial controller?”

  “I have an Economics & Commerce degree from Melbourne University, and I’m a Chartered...”

  “I know about your academic background and work history,” Aspine interrupted. “I want to know why I should employ an untried financial controller?”

  “I-I’m no-not really un-untried. I-I’ve b-been doing the f-financial con-controller’s job in my cur-current pos-position for the pas-past four years. I...I ju-just don’t have the title.”

  “Or the salary,” Aspine chuckled.

  Kerry blushed and his eyes started to water. “You-you’re right.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I-I’m not real-really su-sure.”

  “Is it because of the quality of your work? Have you failed to meet deadlines?”

  “I work a hun-hundred hours a week when necessary, and the qual-quality of my work is be-beyond reproach,” Kerry responded, a tinge of indignation in his voice.

  “How do think you’ll handle talking to merchant bankers and stockbrokers about the company’s prospects?”

  “I-it’s not som-something I-I’ve done be-before,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I-I thin-think I might b-be able to han-handl
e it.”

  “Kerry, a ‘might’ won’t cut it. I can’t run the risk of the company being inadequately promoted. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, yes I do, Mr Aspine,” Kerry replied, his disappointment obvious.

  “It’s a shame. You’re obviously a skilled accountant, and I would have liked to have employed you.” Aspine paused and placed his fingertips on his forehead, as if in deep thought. “I’ve got it. You could brief me on the figures, and I could handle the merchant bankers.”

  “You-you’d do tha-that f-for me.”

  “I don’t know much about accounting or figures,” he lied. “You’d have to help me get a better understanding of the numbers. Do you think you could do that?”

  “Oh, yes. That wouldn’t be a problem.” Kerry replied, his eyes full of hope.

  “It does create a salary problem though, because you wouldn’t be handling the job in its entirety. How much are you earning now?”

  “One hundred and twenty thousand.”

  “And how much would you expect to earn in this position?”

  Kerry looked down at his feet and muttered, “I don’t know.”

  He was perfect, Aspine thought. He was shy, lacking in confidence, nervous, and probably easily coerced and intimidated. He reached into the top drawer of the desk and took out a piece of paper with 160 written on it, and placed it in front of Kerry. “When I was reading your application and CV, I thought this would be a fair figure.”

  “Yes, that’s very fair.” Kerry smiled for the first time.

  “Plus a company car, and 200,000 options to acquire shares in the company.”

  Kerry was glowing. “That’s very generous, Mr Aspine.”

  “Call me Doug. When’s the earliest you can start?”

  “I h-have to give a mon-month’s no-notice, b-but they may le-let me go in a we- week. I can ask.”

  “Do that, Kerry, and welcome aboard,” Aspine said, extending his hand. “I’ll get a formal offer couriered to you, but I believe in the honour of a man’s handshake.”

  “Thank you, Doug. I-I’m re-really looking fo-forward to w-working with you.”