The CEO: White Collar Crime Finance Suspense Thriller

by Peter Ralph

  Kerry Bartlett knocked nervously at Aspine’s door. His eyes were red and he looked exhausted. “Come in, Kerry,” Aspine snarled, his mind still on Vic Garland. “I wanted to talk to you about your bonus,” he said, softening his tone, as he wrestled with the thumping in his head.

  “I-I-I’ve...”

  “Try and relax, Kerry. I’ve authorized a half yearly bonus of a hundred thousand to compensate you for the enormous effort that you’ve put in. I’ve exercised my options, and I suggest you do the same. I’m sure that you know your profit’s around seven hundred thousand dollars.”

  Kerry’s demeanour hadn’t improved and, if anything, he looked sicklier. “I-I ha-have some b-bad news.”

  “That can wait. Do you want me to ask Phil Kendall to fund the exercise of your options in the same way that he did for me?”

  “It-it’s not imp-important.”

  “Of course it is. I’ll get Phil out tomorrow morning.” Aspine’s head ached, but he ignored the pain knowing that he had to make sure that Kerry exercised his options.

  “All-alright,” Kerry mumbled, without enthusiasm. “Doug-Douglas, the cos-costs on the office bl-blocks have blow-blown out. Th-the four-fourteen mil-million profit that we thought we had has tur-turned into a loss. We-we’re in troub-trouble.”

  Aspine couldn’t conceal his shock. “How can that be? Are you sure?”

  “I-I’m certain.”

  “What can we do?” Fuck Jack Gillard. It was his fault.

  “I-I can’t th-think of any-anything, I-I’m so so-sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m not an accountant but why can’t you put the additional costs on other partly completed projects? That way the office blocks will still appear profitable and our little problem will be solved.”

  “Lit-little prob-problem? We-we’ve fake-faked the figures by twenty-five million, and we-we’ve just los-lost fourteen that we thought we were going to get back. I-I might be able to trans-transfer some cos-costs, but eventually they’ll come ba-back to bite us.”

  “But if you can push the costs out to next year, we’ll be able to make enough additional profits to hide them. We just need breathing space.” Aspine said, placing his hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “I’ll never let you down, mate, trust me.”

  No-one had ever called Kerry ‘mate’ before and, while his gut was twisted, he felt affection and loyalty for Douglas Aspine that bordered on love. “Thank you, Doug.”

  After Kerry left, Aspine put his arms on his desk and rested his head in them, praying that it would stop throbbing.

  Wes Bracken’s phone call about the endangered rats on the Melton land had sealed Aspine’s future, and cost him millions of dollars. It was not in his nature to turn the other cheek, and he intended to extract retribution. He carefully connected the recording device to his mobile phone and punched in Vic Garland’s number.

  “Hello,” a gruff testy voice answered.

  “Vic, it’s me, Douglas. How are you?”

  “Why aren’t you phoning me on my prepaid?”

  “Fuck. I forgot. It won’t make any difference this one time.”

  “Hmmph. What do you want?”

  “My sales people are complaining. They say they’re selling against heavy discounting at the Docklands. I thought you said that you could control apartment pricing,” Aspine said, flicking the recorder on.

  “We haven’t discounted, and I’ve told the principals at Apartco and Urban what they should be charging.”

  “Yes, but do they listen to you?” Aspine scoffed.

  “Listen sonny,” Garland growled, “as far as apartment pricing goes, they do exactly what I tell them to.”

  “How often are you in contact with them?”

  “Regularly. I’ll call them, but I think your sales people are whingeing because they’re being outsold. What do they expect when they’ve got to sell crepe walls,” he laughed disdainfully. “I’ll phone you in a few minutes.”

  Aspine didn’t have long to wait. “What’s wrong with your prepaid? When I called it went to message bank.”

  “Sorry, Vic. My battery ran out,” Aspine lied.

  “Jesus, how slack are you? I’ve spoken to my contacts at Apartco and Urban, and as I thought, there’s been no discounting. Your guys are just no bloody good.”

  “So they’re charging the prices they agreed with you?”

  “I just said that, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. Apartco, Urban and Vicland are all holding prices and, I’m warning you, don’t start discounting or we’ll launch a price war that’ll kill you,” Garland growled.

  “I won’t. By the way Vic, what’s your full name?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “My PA’s sending out invitations to a Mercury function, and wanted to know if your full name is Victor?”

  “Don’t invite me. Those bloody functions are a waste of time. You tell her to take Vic Garland’s name off her list because I won’t be there. Good-bye.”

  Aspine broke his prepaid mobile phone into two parts and cut the sim card into small pieces that he’d dispose of in public rubbish bins. As far as he was concerned it had never existed. He placed the recording device in his jacket pocket and patted it − Vic Garland was about to be hit by a bombshell which would rob him of a lifetime’s respect − together with a large amount of his cash. His headache had disappeared and he felt clear headed and sharp. This had never occurred before without sex, but then again, what he was about to do to Garland, was better than sex.

  Aspine couldn’t phone Max Vogel fast enough. “I need to see you first thing in the morning, Max. I’ll come to your office.”

  “Douglas, I have other appointments, I can’t see you until the afternoon.”

  “Cancel them, this is urgent.”

  “I can’t, D...”

  “Fucking lawyers! Christ, Max, I’m your biggest client.”

  “You’re not, you know, but I’ll fit you in at eight o’clock,” Vogel sighed.

  - 32 -

  SLY & VOGEL OWNED a small three-level period building at the Paris end of Collins Street, that’d been extensively refurbished. The furnishings and décor were expensive, but purposely understated. The reception was unattended when Aspine arrived, and he thumped on the bell.

  “Good morning, Douglas,” the slim, urbane, greying lawyer said, extending his hand.

  “Hello, Max. Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Come into to my office,” Vogel said, walking down the corridor. “What’s so urgent?”

  “You’ll see in a second,” Aspine replied, taking the recorder from his pocket and playing the Garland recording.

  “Shit! That’s dynamite, but I don’t understand why you’ve kept it, or why you’re playing it here?”

  “I want you to give it to the ACCC.”

  “You want to give it to the competition regulator? Have you gone mad? He’ll bury you. What have you got against Vic Garland? Are you aware that the penalties could be in the tens of millions?”

  “I wasn’t really involved in the price fixing. I put Mercury’s prices up and the others followed, and then Vic Garland phoned and told me that he’d put me out of business if I discounted at the Docklands.”

  “But you still benefited from the lack of proper competition. Why do you want to blow the whistle on Garland? Is it something to with the Melton land deal?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with the land, and I’m not out to sink Garland.”

  “Why then?” Vogel asked, starting to lose patience.

  “Is everything I tell you privileged?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you can never give evidence against me?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Aspine then explained the creation of Balmoral Finance Company Pty Ltd, and how it had been used it to prop the prices up of pre-owned apartments.

  Vogel groaned. “I wondered how Mercury’s apartments were holdi
ng their prices when I read those advertisements, but I still don’t see what it has to do with Garland?”

  “The ACCC has a history of granting immunity to the first whistle blower in a cartel doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, with the consent of the Director of Public Prosecutions; but how does that help you with Balmoral?”

  “Simple. I want you to negotiate my immunity with the ACCC and DPP, and then get them to grant me an all-embracing indemnity for all and any breaches of the Trade Practices Act that I may have inadvertently committed. And I want you to make sure that they can’t share any information I provide, or that they might discover, with the Securities and Investment Commission.”

  “Inadvertently? So you want me to go to the ACCC and tell them I have a client with evidence unlawfully gathered, of extensive price fixing in the building industry, who’ll provide that information if he’s granted a watertight immunity.”

  “Unlawfully gathered?”

  “You can’t tape a conversation without the other party’s knowledge and use it as evidence.”

  “I knew that. I thought it might whet the anti-trust regulator’s appetite though.”

  “I think you know far more than what you make out. It more than establishes the grounds for a full investigation and I’m sure the ACCC’s investigators would love to have it.”

  “Good. I doubt the ACCC will even find about Balmoral but, if they do, I want to be fully insured. It should be easy for you, after all, lawyers are trained to prepare all-encompassing documents designed to protect their clients against unforeseen future pitfalls. Do you think you can pull it off?”

  “You know I can, or you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  “Max, make your first overtures to the ACCC today and get a draft indemnity prepared, but I don’t want to provide any statements or evidence for another two weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you, but I want you to personally handle this matter. No delegating. If it leaks out before I’m indemnified I’ll be deep in the shit.”

  Aspine smiled as he walked out onto Collins Street. Vic Garland didn’t know what was about to hit him. Old bastard! He would instruct Wes to issue press releases on the day the ACCC indemnified him, which would make him look like an unfortunate victim, and Garland a bully and a rogue.

  Before going back to the office Aspine called at the nearest Vodaphone dealer and paid cash for an essential tool − another prepaid mobile. He wanted no record of buying the prepaid mobile or of his calls to Charles Ong.

  Aspine knew that he couldn’t sell his remaining five hundred thousand shares in Mercury without creating suspicion, leaving himself open to insider trading charges once the Melton disaster became public knowledge. It was against this background that he decided to make an off-market transfer of his shares to Barbara. He would lodge the requisite forms with the Stock Exchange, making it clear the transfer was to his wife. Hopefully those who made their money by analyzing such announcements would not consider it a sale, but rather just a change of ownership within the family.

  “I don’t want bloody shares,” she screamed down the phone. “You said it’d be cash, and you’d sign the house and car over to me.”

  “The deal’s changed. You’re now getting five hundred thousand shares worth more than two and a half million, and taking over the mortgage on the house, and the car loan. It’s more than what we agreed on, so I don’t know what you’re whingeing about.”

  “I don’t want to own shares in any company that you’re involved in, and I can’t pay the loans off with them.”

  “Sorry, that’s not my problem.”

  “You force me to take shares, and I’ll sell the bloody things.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Aspine gloated, knowing that Barbara would do exactly the opposite of what he supposedly wanted.

  “I’m selling!”

  “You’ll regret it.”

  He crowed at his cunning. He’d managed to get two and a half million for shares that might be worth half that in a few weeks’ time without having to disclose it. Better still, Barbara will say, if questioned, that he tried to talk her out of selling.

  Aspine knew that he had to find another high paying job before the shit hit the fan. With this in mind he phoned Sainsbury & Co. “I’m surprised but pleased to hear from you, Douglas,” Hamish Gidley-Baird gushed. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I haven’t, Hamish, but I thought I should at least listen to what you have to say. When can we meet?”

  “Can you come to our offices?”

  “I don’t think that would be wise.”

  “No, you’re right, sorry I didn’t think.”

  “Where do you live, Hamish?”

  “Beaumaris.”

  “You must pass Finz, the fish café and bar on Beach Road on the way home. Let’s meet there tonight at seven o’clock?”

  “That’s fine and it allows me to get away from the city a little earlier than usual.”

  “How will I know you?”

  Gidley-Baird laughed. “Don’t worry, Douglas, with the exposure you’ve had in the papers, and on television I’ll find you without any problems. Just make yourself comfortable when you get there, and let me do the looking.”

  Vic Garland’s treachery had messed with Aspine’s mind but, he didn’t forget to phone Charles Ong, to ensure that his ill-gotten profits were still accumulating.

  “Douglas, we bought one million shares in Cyber-Games at an average of $1.10. They opened at a $1.35 this morning, and there’s been heavy buying since.”

  “Thank you, that’s good news.”

  “Blayloch & Fitch know the buying of Clean Energy came out of this firm.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Someone within the firm has been prying into Mapago.”

  “Shit!”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure there’s nothing to find, but they’re very determined, and if I were you I’d give it a break after you’ve closed the Cyber-Games position.”

  “I will, and after I’ve done that I’ll transfer everything into the Swiss bank account. If the Cyber-Games shares perform like I think they will, I’ll have over four million in Zurich.”

  “You won’t get any more protection there than you have in Hong Kong.”

  “You’re probably right, Charles, but I like muddying my tracks. Good bye.”

  Finz was quiet and Aspine took a table near the window. “Will you be dining with us this evening?” the waitress asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’d like a Jack Daniels, while I think about it.”

  “Certainly.”

  It was nearly dark, but Aspine still caught glimpses of the ocean through the ti-treed foreshore and heavy Beach Road traffic. He pushed his drink from hand to hand pondering what the night might hold.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” the tall, blonde-haired man said.

  “Hamish? It’s good to put a face to a voice. What would you like to drink?”

  “Douglas, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll have a dry white.”

  “If you rather avoid the house whites, I’d be happy to share a bottle with you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m only having one glass. I want to get home to see my kids before they go to bed, and I’m hoping to get to the gym a little later.”

  “You want to cut through the small talk and get down to business.

  “That’s right. We already know all that we need to about you, so why don’t I brief you about our proposition.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Our client is a major drug developer and pharmaceuticals company. It has brilliant chemists, scientists and researchers, but a poor record of selling its products. Most of the marketing is via license agreements entered into with large US companies.”

  “Who cream off most of the profits leaving your client, Philmont Pharmaceuticals, with the dregs. Is that a fair summary?”

  “I didn’t think it’d take much for you to w
ork out who our client is and, yes, you’re spot on. As you know, it’s an old staid company, and two of the Philmonts are still on the board. It has no debt, it’s asset-rich and has been over-promising and under-delivering for years. The family still own more than thirty per cent of the company, and, if it wasn’t for that, it would’ve been taken over years ago.”

  “Who are you acting for?” Aspine asked, sipping his whisky.

  “I’m not with you?”

  “Who’s the catalyst for a new CEO? Is it the family or the institutions?”

  “The third generation of the family would like to sell, but not while the share price is languishing at less than net tangible asset backing.”

  “So they want someone to kick it into shape and then they’ll sell out. That’s hardly an attractive proposition for the incumbent CEO,” Aspine said, thinking it couldn’t be more perfect.

  “They realize that, and there’ll be a very generous early termination sum built into the remuneration package.”

  “Why don’t you give me the details of the package, because what you’ve said so far holds little appeal,” Aspine lied.

  “You’re going to earn seven million with Mercury this year, and with the Philmont package you’ll earn ten million plus,” Gidley-Baird said, his light blue eyes glazing over by the size of the numbers. “This is a terrific opportunity.”

  “I don’t think so. If I accepted would your client indemnify me for legal costs and damages in the event of Mercury suing me for breach of contract?”

  “We anticipated that being a concern, and should your former employer litigate, our client is prepared to fully indemnify you.”

  “Former employer? You’re getting a little ahead of yourself. If you know so much about my current package, you’ll be aware that if I accept your offer I’ll be sacrificing a bonus of nearly three million this half year,” Aspine exaggerated.