Gold

by Brian Freemantle

  Metzinger started, momentarily confused.

  ‘Hassan has made another approach,’ said Collington.

  Metzinger’s face brightened in palpable relief. ‘He wants to go ahead?’ he demanded, too eagerly.

  ‘I won’t know until I meet him.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘In Vienna, tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll let my people know,’ promised Metzinger.

  ‘Why not wait until we see what his proposals are? With all the board here, we could make the announcement to them as well.’

  ‘We’ll have to let the government determine the announcement,’ said Metzinger, hurriedly.

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Collington.

  ‘You’ll contact me, the moment you get back?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I thought it might have been all over,’ admitted Metzinger.

  For one of us, thought Collington, it could still be all over.

  Metzinger caught Wassenaar at his office and hurried immediately to see the corporation lawyer. Wassenaar listened blankly, failing to respond to the deputy chairman’s enthusiasm.

  ‘I told you I wasn’t interested,’ he reminded.

  ‘A million Rand,’ said Metzinger slowly. ‘That’s what you lost. A million.’

  ‘I don’t need the reminder,’ said the lawyer.

  ‘You need a chance to recover,’ insisted Metzinger. ‘I’m giving it to you.’

  ‘To regain a million? Or lose another one?’ said Wassenaar.

  Metzinger started up from his chair, moving aimlessly around the room.

  ‘How the hell can that happen?’ he demanded. ‘All we’ve got to do is place purchase orders. If we buy on a ten per cent margin, we’ll have recovered our money before the month’s out, for full settlement.’

  Wassenaar hesitated, his resolve weakening. ‘It’s less involved than before,’ he admitted.

  ‘Look what’s happened since the mines were bombed!’ said Metzinger, continuing the pressure. ‘We’re level or a point or two above par on every exchange you can name. If we’re that buoyant, how long do you imagine it will take for the shares to lift after we’ve embarrassed Collington?’

  ‘I’ve the contract with the Zurich broker,’ said Wassenaar. ‘What orders do you want me to place for you?’

  ‘What I lost,’ instructed Metzinger, at once. ‘Eighty thousand. And forty thousand for Janet.’

  ‘When do you want them placed?’

  ‘As soon as you can.’

  ‘What position?’

  Metzinger frowned, trying to decide. ‘Two below par,’ he said.

  ‘They would have to go three above, for you just to be even.’

  ‘I’m not going to end up even,’ said Metzinger confidently. ‘I’m going to end up as I intended. Ahead. And in control.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Hassan had taken a whole floor of the Sacher and, as in London, the corridors and outer rooms were crowded with berobed Arabs, few of whom appeared to be doing very much. Unlike his initial meeting with the Saudi prince at Claridge’s, Collington did not go through the ceremonial delays. His admission was as swift as it had been at the embassy and as he was announced Hassan hurried forward to greet him.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, my friend,’ said Hassan. He retained his grip on Collington’s hand, leading him further into the apartment. It was a large suite, adapted as an office: there was even a muted tape machine discharging its thread of information in one corner. Collington remembered that this was one of Metzinger’s affectations.

  ‘And you,’ responded Collington. Their relationship seemed to have progressed since the last meeting, he thought.

  There was a handclap and the tea came, and Collington sipped dutifully.

  ‘I was sorry to learn of your misfortune,’ said Hassan. ‘Although it doesn’t appear to have had the effect I would have imagined.’ As he spoke Hassan indicated the tape machine and Collington wondered which price index it was linked to.

  ‘We were lucky, in the circumstances,’ he said. ‘We’ve been able to re-open one mine already.’

  ‘So I understand,’ said Hassan. ‘Your production won’t be badly affected, then?’

  ‘There will be full resumption within three months,’ assured Collington.

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  ‘And a resumption of the normal gold release next month.’ It was an over-commitment, but he wanted to get the discussion on course. If there was to be no reserve between them, then there shouldn’t be the usual word play either.

  ‘I regret the delay,’ said Hassan, spreading his hands to indicate that the reasons were beyond his control. ‘The OPEC meeting was not an easy one. There were many discussions necessary in its aftermath. And the need to consult my own country.’

  ‘I hope those consultations went beyond the OPEC debate and included the proposals we have considered,’ said Collington, maintaining the pressure.

  Hassan smiled, moving to resist it. ‘My first impression upon arriving in America for my education was of the directness of the people there. I’m reminded of it in you.’

  Collington refused to be deflected. ‘I think it is necessary for us to speak directly,’ he said. ‘If we are to go forward, I don’t think we should allow any possibility of a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Are we to go forward?’ said Hassan.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Collington.

  ‘I am assured you have the backing of the government?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Collington. Another over-commitment, he recognised. ‘Do you have the approval of yours?’

  ‘There has been a detailed consideration,’ admitted Hassan. ‘I have been asked to explore it further.’

  And pick up £100,000,000 when passing ‘Go’, thought Collington. ‘What further guarantees can I give, beyond those we have already discussed?’

  ‘It would be important for us to be absolutely assured of adequate protection,’ said Hassan. ‘The companies you spoke about in England would have to be formed and staffed and trading would have to be commenced for us to be sure of your sincerity. And those in America, too.’

  It was understandable caution, Collington reluctantly conceded. The oil industry was an insular, jealous collection of companies and organisations, each alert and suspicious towards any new entrant. It would be necessary for any front corporation to operate successfully for several months before actively entering the full arrangement with Saudi Arabia. It would mean leasing refinery space. And tanker charter, until it was clear that the Arabs intended going through with the scheme and it became economical to build their own. The expenditure was going to be enormous and based on the word of a man he suspected of manipulating the bullion suspension and whom he had already described as a crook.

  ‘That would involve substantial capital outlay,’ said Collington.

  ‘For eventual substantial capital reward,’ parried the Arab.

  ‘I am responsible to my shareholders,’ said Collington. ‘I would need a document before I could consider such an investment.’

  Hassan shook his head, recognising that the bargaining had begun. ‘But if such a thing fell into the wrong hands, it could cause an upheaval within my country that can hardly be contemplated,’ said Hassan.

  ‘I would not insist upon it having the authority of the government behind it,’ said Collington, in apparent concession. ‘I would accept a letter from you to me.’

  ‘I am still my country’s Oil Minister,’ said Hassan.

  ‘And I am a businessman with as many interests outside South Africa as I have within. There would be no provable direct link,’ said Collington. It was almost time to give another gentle twist of the screw.

  ‘Upon the lips of provocateurs, there would be no need for a direct link,’ insisted Hassan.

  ‘There was talk between us at a previous meeting of a commission,’ said Collington, aware of the flare of interest in Hassan’s eyes.

  ‘I
don’t remember the details,’ said Hassan dismissively, as if it were unimportant.

  ‘My estimate was that the figure would amount to something around £100,000,000.’

  ‘A considerable sum of money.’

  ‘And one which we could not consider paying, in addition to all the other expenditure, until after a full contract had been agreed between the companies I intend establishing and actual shipment had begun.’

  Hassan’s face closed in anger at the realisation that it could be a year or maybe longer before he received any payment. ‘I do not think that would be acceptable,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘With such sums involved as those that we are considering, it would be unfortunate for any agreement to founder upon such an amount,’ said Collington, appearing surprised at Hassan’s outright rejection.

  ‘It was not the sum, it was the principle,’ said the Arab, too eager in his annoyance. ‘There has been a considerable amount of work involved in bringing the discussions this far.’

  ‘Believe me, I understand!’ said Collington, raising his hands in a gesture of assurance. ‘But it is exactly the principle, the business principle, that I am considering. Payment of commission is normal upon completion of a contract. But I haven’t got a contract: I haven’t even got a letter of intent.’ Collington waited for the other man’s greed to come to his assistance.

  ‘Would you consider a letter of intent a contractual document?’

  ‘I would regard it as an exploratory document,’ qualified Collington. He paused, then threw the man’s own conditions back at him. ‘Quite clearly, to guard against the embarrassment you are so anxious to avoid, any such letter would be in far too general terms to be regarded as a contract.’

  ‘What would the commission qualification be?’

  Collington seemed to consider the question, then he said, ‘I think half payment would be equitable.’

  ‘I think that would be acceptable,’ said Hassan, once more too quickly.

  It was time to reel the line in too fast for Hassan to realise he was hooked, decided Collington. ‘I would be prepared to make it clear in a responding letter that it was part payment. If you would appreciate the guarantee, I would even go so far as to make my letter specific enough to be legally binding as a contract.’

  Hassan looked hopeful again, at his belief of an over-generous concession, but before he could speak Collington went on, ‘And of course, the payment would be in gold.’

  ‘Gold!’

  Collington remained expressionless at Hassan’s momentary lapse of control. The man was lying on the bank, gasping and waiting to be gaffed, he decided. ‘It would show my measure of good faith,’ said Collington. ‘And at the same time act as proof to you and to your government, should you wish to make the arrangement known, of the South African government’s tacit acceptance of the agreement.’

  Collington purposely set out what he intended to do, offering the man his escape so there could be no subsequent accusations of trickery. He waited for Hassan to realise it. But instead Hassan said, ‘I think we have reached an agreement, my friend.’

  ‘I’m very pleased,’ said Collington.

  ‘Would you like to take the letter of intent back with you?’

  ‘It would enable me to make arrangements for payment, which would have to be government authorised. And enable me to compile my reply, once that has been done.’

  ‘I have secretaries in an adjoining room,’ offered Hassan, anxious not to lose his imagined advantage. He rose, hurrying past the quietly churning tape machine and Collington relaxed back in his seat. Hassan had probably calculated a ten per cent rise, in a full year, on his half payment. And had let himself be blinded by a £5,000,000 commission increase to the insurance Collington was manipulating to protect himself both from the Saudi Arabians and the South Africans.

  Collington intended to stipulate gold in his contractual reply to whatever Hassan was composing in the nearby room. As a legally binding document, it would be referenced. And that same reference would head the formal approach he made to Pretoria. He would register his copies in London, and if ever the arrangement became embarrassingly public he would have documentary proof that he was acting as an intermediary between two governments.

  Hassan returned very quickly. He carried a top copy and a duplicate and Collington signed the duplicate for Hassan’s retention. Hassan offered his hand and Collington shook it. ‘To a successful business partnership.’ he said.

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ replied Collington.

  Hassan relaxed, arms spread along either arm of his chair, a magnanimous victor. ‘You spoke about payment arrangements,’ he said.

  ‘Of your choice,’ agreed Collington.

  ‘I think Switzerland,’ said Hassan. ‘They have such admirable banking laws.’

  ‘That will be very simple for us to arrange,’ said Collington.

  ‘And all I have to do is trust in gold,’ said Hassan, flippant in his satisfaction.

  ‘There can’t be anything safer in which we can place our trust,’ said Collington, responding to the man’s lightness. If the audience were terminated within the next hour, Collington calculated he could be airborne and on his way back to South Africa by midevening.

  ‘Doesn’t appear to be the view of every expert,’ said Hassan.

  ‘Then I’d hardly regard the man as an expert,’ said Collington.

  ‘A great many people do,’ said Hassan. ‘Henry Moreton has created quite a reputation for himself.’

  ‘The United States Secretary to the Treasury!’ said Collington. How could a man who had underpinned his country’s currency with the gold deal with Russia decry its value? Surely not another mystery?

  ‘He wasn’t under-estimating its worth,’ recalled Hassan. ‘Rather its availability.’

  Collington forced an attitude of calmness, not wanting the other man to detect his interest. Why was Moreton intruding in contradictory arguments about gold? There was an obvious answer, but Collington found it difficult to accept.

  ‘Why should he doubt availability?’ he encouraged the Arab.

  Hassan shrugged, an artificially doubtful gesture. ‘I thought you might be able to tell me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘There was some talk of Communist infiltration into South Africa. And then the Communist bombing of your mines.’

  Hassan was looking directly at him and Collington realised that they were once again involved in a verbal minuet.

  ‘When did you meet Moreton?’ he asked.

  ‘Friday,’ replied Hassan.

  ‘The same day as the bombings,’ remembered Collington, pointedly.

  ‘The coincidence occurred to me, as well,’ said Hassan equally heavily.

  The picture of the jigsaw puzzle was slowly forming, thought Collington. Moreton had somehow discovered the Saudi negotiations and recognised them as a risk to the US oil supplies. How? The Saudi court was the most obvious – as obvious as the attempted warning to the Arab prince about the attacks on five specific mines. It removed the baffling inconsistency about the selection, which no one had been able to resolve. Until now. It might even have worked, Collington conceded, if Hassan hadn’t been so desperate for £100,000,000. The word stayed with him, an irritation. Wasn’t there also a desperation about America, albeit disguised, mounting attacks on South African territory? He’d replaced one inconsistency with another. But this time, he thought he knew a way to resolve it.

  ‘An amazing coincidence,’ agreed Collington. He wouldn’t talk his suspicions through with Hassan. It might frighten the Arab off completely and Collington wanted the agreement settled before his other confrontation with Metzinger.

  ‘We’ll continue to use the London embassy for consultation,’ decreed Hassan.

  ‘Tine.’

  ‘Is there a serious problem with the guerrilla incursion into South Africa?’ demanded Hassan.

  ‘South Africa has one of the most efficient security forces in the wor
ld,’ replied Collington. ‘There’ll be times when they’re defeated. Like Sasol. And like the SAGOMI mines. But don’t misread it as a country on retreat.’

  ‘You sound as if you approve of the policy,’ said Hassan.

  Collington looked up, startled at the assessment. ‘I’m philosophical about it,’ he corrected.

  Collington was aware that he was about to involve himself in an activity in which he was an amateur and uncharacteristically his confidence wavered. Yet he thought he knew enough to defeat Metzinger, and that he was even in a position to bring off the oil deal, as well. The most sensible course of action would have been to alert the security chief to Brigitte re Jong’s presence, tell the man about Moreton’s conversation with the Saudi prince and let professionals take over. But he wanted to win in everything, just like Metzinger. Which he recognised as dangerous, his usual confidence overflowing into conceit, but he couldn’t curb the desire. He remained uncertain throughout the morning, wishing there was someone with whom it was safe to discuss what he hoped to achieve, and then, at noon, he picked up the telephone and called the Burgerspark Hotel. She answered immediately, her voice neutral when he identified himself. The only sound of surprise came when he invited her back to the SAGOMI building and then he remembered the flirtatious impression he had attempted at their first meeting and which he now recognised to have been pointless, guessing that she had expected some continuation. His earlier behaviour worked in his favour. The woman entered his office more confident than on the first occasion, anticipating a repetition and sure of her ability to manipulate the encounter.

  ‘I’m surprised,’ she announced at once. There was a feigned petulance about the protest.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘It took so long for you to call.’

  She was very good, decided Collington. Had he been the sort of man he had parodied a few days earlier, he would have imagined a conquest.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said, curtly.

  Her composure faltered slightly, but the coquettish smile remained in place. Slowly, the slowness indicating her curiosity, she lowered herself into the seat to which he had gestured with an almost irritable flick of his hand. Collington had rehearsed the meeting, determined to gain immediate control. He let the silence build up to increase her uncertainty, waiting until she actually began to shift uncomfortably in the chair.