Unsafe Deposit

by J. E. Kellenberger

  Other factors too would shape Rolf’s life and disposition, none more so than an encounter with Arthur at university where Rolf was studying Economics and Arthur enjoying a History of Art course. Both were of the same age having been born in 1950 and both shared a love of hard work. Hurrying carelessly out of the refectory one lunchtime Rolf barged into Arthur who was entering and sent him flying, Arthur’s small and slightly tubby physique being no match for Rolf’s six-foot frame. No apology from Rolf was forthcoming and there was no helping hand to aid Arthur to his feet. Rolf stopped briefly but only to hurl verbal abuse at Arthur and over his shoulder, as he marched away, he was heard to roll off a string of expletives about short, fat idiots. Whilst this encounter barely registered on Rolf’s radar for Arthur it would turn out to be one of importance. It was a seminal moment which he didn’t intend to forget and while he had stayed calm and collected at the time, should their paths cross again, he promised himself he would take pleasure in settling the score in a much harsher way. He wasn’t the son of a criminal for nothing!

  Rolf started in the family business as a trainee where he thrived and found his first real contentment in life. Learning the job from the shop floor upwards it was not long before he spotted a loophole in the system which could be gainfully exploited. The system for offloading old stock, seconds and rejected customer samples was ripe for picking and while some stock made it through to the designated end other stock found its way into Tommy’s van and ended up being sold in markets across northern France, a practice that would continue for several years while the two young men carefully put in place the plans they had ironed out together as schoolboys. Tommy’s choice had always been the motor trade whereas Rolf’s first goal was to get his father Max to put him in charge of the small factory in Switzerland. Later he would take over his father’s firm and turn it from a small family business into a nationwide one and he would never be short of money again. Rolf opened a safe deposit with a Swiss bank where he lodged his illegal cash which he converted into equities as and when he had sufficient to buy a worthwhile holding, thereby laundering it. Tommy’s plan for his tainted money was far simpler as he could use cash to buy vehicles at car auctions, no questions asked.

  Little change had occurred to the factory in Switzerland during the interval between Max and Esther returning to England after the war and Rolf taking over responsibility in the late seventies. Rolf’s first cousin once-removed and her husband continued to manage day-to-day affairs efficiently but were not entrepreneurs and as a consequence product lines had not moved with the times and the machinery had become antiquated. Rolf had moved things forward as much as was possible by streamlining procedures and considering new lines that the old machinery might be able to handle but it soon became clear to him that to transform the business radical changes were necessary including a complete retooling. When investment funds became available Rolf had plans drawn up to extend the current structure of the single-storey building by adding a two-storey extension to the side and a new reception area to the front. Visitor parking and new signage were also scheduled. Most importantly there would be a complete change in the products manufactured. Handkerchiefs could no longer be sold in sufficient quantities to make a profit or break even and the market for the lace they made and supplied to clothes manufacturers all over Europe had declined markedly as fashions had changed. Rolf backed his hunch that a move into the manufacture of nightwear would be successful based on his growing experience and conversations that he had had with buyers. Finally new textile fabric manufacturing machines were ordered.

  The paths of Max Berghoff and Alan Gadd had crossed a number of times over the years at trade shows, both being in the same line of manufacturing, corporate work wear, although Alan had started his livelihood as a trainee accountant to please his parents who wanted a more affluent lifestyle for their only son but who had failed to appreciate that he was not cut out for a career of endless paperwork and who lasted no more than a few months before announcing that he was going to start his own clothing business. The pair had co-operated over a number of years to their mutual advantage, a merger of the two separate businesses being the natural outcome of this harmonious collaboration ensuring a sound financial footing for the new company, WareWork Textiles Limited. Max would be its CEO and Alan its deputy and it was the clear intention of Max, older by some two decades than his younger co-founder that Alan would take over the united company on Max’s retirement or demise. Crucially, in a spirit of trust, no legally binding document was put in place to support this intention. Rolf, aware of a situation he could never tolerate, began formulating plans to prevent this scenario occurring.

  Shares in the UK-based business were equally divided at the time of the merger with Max and Alan holding half each. However, after several years of managing the Swiss factory successfully Rolf had persuaded his father to assign the shares in the Swiss-based factory to him. At the time this was a separate and independent business but on becoming sole shareholder Rolf cleverly brought it under the overall control of WareWork thus ensuring that the Berghoffs would have a greater shareholding in WareWork than the Gadds, a subterfuge that would in due course come as a rude awakening to Alan. During the next decade the business grew and prospered and in the early 1980s Max and Alan publicly announced their intention to seek a listing on the LSE in early 1984. Any hint of impropriety during this period of due diligence could have jeopardised their goal. An article appeared in the financial press analysing this possible floatation for its readers, giving a brief history of WareWork’s CEO Max Berghoff together with a picture of him landing in England just before the war. Printed below the picture in largish capitals was his name, an uncommon one at that time. Arthur Meares was a regular reader of the financial press. His attention was drawn to the article by his criminal colleague Ron Lindsey who recognised the surname and was sharp enough to spot a possibility for blackmail. A young schoolboy named Rolf Berghoff had worked on Stan Cahill’s market stalls during his school days. He was best friends with Stan’s son Tommy. In those days Ron was involved in the procuring of fake goods and one of his outlets was Stan’s stall. The stall was also a vehicle for the passing of counterfeit currency from time to time. The fake goods trade couldn’t have escaped the young lads’ attention although they may have been ignorant of the currency scam. Arthur and Ron agreed that if they could link Rolf Berghoff to WareWork he might be the perfect person to safeguard some stolen gemstones that had come into their possession and which now needed a secure home for the next decade or so until they were no longer hot property. It was the sort of task that Ron’s sister Lizzie excelled at. Left to her own devices she soon established that Rolf was indeed Max Berghoff’s son and, further, that Rolf was the managing director of the Swiss factory. Further resourcefulness on her part, funded grudgingly by Arthur as Lizzie shadowed one of Rolf’s trips to Switzerland also uncovered a likely fiddle involving WareWork merchandise and an offshore bank account.

  This discovery was perfect for the set-up of a long-term safe house and Arthur and Ron had something well worth hiding. In their criminal dealings they were normally very risk-averse but, occasionally, slightly riskier but potentially extremely lucrative opportunities came their way. One such occasion came their way following the capture of two jewel robbers by the police. From inside prison they orchestrated the fencing of their hidden booty before the police discovered it. In a weak position they were unable to drive a hard bargain and Ron and Arthur were able to pick up thirty gemstones for a bargain basement price. This red-hot property would need a safe hiding place for several years before the stones could be drip fed back into circulation. Ron and Arthur decided to coat each jewel with streaky coloured glass as disguise so that each one looked like an ordinary glass marble and because it appealed to Arthur’s cultural airs he marked each marble with a letter which when put in the correct sequence spelled out, “The quality of mercy is not strained”.

  Arthur set about
drafting a private and confidential letter to Rolf at his WareWork office little realising that in doing so he would settle a longstanding score with a university alumnus.

  Dear Mr R. Berghoff,

  It has come to my attention that you are taking certain liberties with some WareWork stock resulting in illegal deposits into your personal Swiss bank account.

  Should information of this nature become public at this crucial moment in the attempted listing of WareWork on the LSE it might have serious repercussions.

  If you would like to avoid this situation occurring please be at Waterloo station on Wednesday 4th June at 3.25 pm outside the entrance to platform 2 where you will be contacted.

  At Waterloo on the designated day Lizzie soon spotted Rolf waiting impatiently at the head of platform 2 and approached him.

  ‘Hallo Rolf, shall we get a coffee from Starbucks and discuss a scenario?’ asked Lizzie.

  Rolf nodded in affirmation. With coffees in hand and leaning against a chest-high table top Lizzie showed Rolf a photo of him in the foyer of a Swiss bank in Aeschenstrasse in Basle holding two thick envelopes and talking to Tommy Cahill.

  ‘This photo proves nothing,’ said Rolf neutrally.

  ‘Oh! I wouldn’t say that, especially as there are laws about private accounts in overseas banks and you might also like to look at this photo of WareWork product on the counter of a market stall in Belfort,’ replied Lizzie.

  Rolf stared at Lizzie but did not reply.

  ‘So we must find a way to keep this information private so that it does not affect the chances of your firm’s bid for a stock exchange listing not to mention bringing it to the attention of those inquisitive people at HMRC!’ Lizzie persisted.

  Rolf gave no reply, just continued his glassy stare.

  ‘I have a small packet that needs a discreet home for the next twenty years or so and your safe deposit in Switzerland would be a perfect place,’ Lizzie continued undaunted.

  Rolf dithered. What should he do? Admit to the situation or pretend that it was all circumstantial and completely incorrect.

  After a pause Rolf said ‘So?’

  Lizzie picked up on the word and went on. ‘So I am going to give you a little time to reflect on your precarious position. It’s a situation that can work to our mutual benefit and at the end of a suitable period you return the packet and I give you the negatives and our business deal concludes.’

  He studied her.

  ‘And what proof would I have that it wouldn’t turn out be a recurring business deal?’ Rolf interjected.

  ‘None whatsoever,’ said Lizzie, ‘except that while you hold the packet I have to trust you and while I hold the negatives you have to trust me!’

  ‘I’ll need time to consider,’ Rolf mumbled.

  ‘I’ll give you forty-eight hours,’ Lizzie replied immediately and added, ‘stand just inside the Royal Exchange building on Thursday at noon and I will give you instructions about taking the packet to Switzerland. If you are not there then HMRC and the press will be alerted straightaway.’

  Rolf nodded and left without saying more.

  Lizzie watched him go and made her way to the ladies’ toilets in the concourse. There, in the privacy of her cubicle, she removed the dark brown wig and spectacles and with a tissue she wiped the lipstick and brown eyebrow marks from her naturally blonde eyebrows. Removing the green cagoule and stuffing it into her handbag she was almost unrecognisable from the woman she appeared to be a few moments earlier.

  Overt conflict with his sister was mostly avoided until she joined the company after her extended schooling. Until that time Rolf had deliberately made her a fringe player in his life, a person he could easily avoid but the dynamics of business life precluded such indulgence. Andreé had been born several weeks premature and needed oxygen for survival. In the days of her birth the risks of extra oxygen in prematurity were not fully understood and, as her general condition improved the oxygen was withdrawn too hastily resulting in Retrolental Fibroplasia, an ocular condition that left her with perception of light only in one eye and severely compromised the sight in the other. A specialist school offered her the best chance of learning how to cope with this disability so that she could enjoy some independence in adulthood. The enormous expense involved had added to and deepened the bitterness felt by Rolf towards his sibling. She had his parents’ love and now she had their money.

  Initially, when she joined the family business, she worked the telephones and various small tasks that her limited vision permitted but with her natural intelligence and interest in business affairs she soon became an important cog in the wheel of the family firm making a valuable contribution, particularly in sales, at trade fairs. She had been taught how to make the most of the few slithers of detailed vision she had in one eye with careful head movements and scanning techniques. In good light this was usually adequate for face recognition, to distinguish products, have a limited appreciation of colour and, with a white stick she was sufficiently independent to use public transport. At a trade show Andreé met a buyer from a food processing company seeking to replace his company’s current work overalls in order to comply with new workplace regulations. John Walker was gentle and understanding and Andreé loved him almost instantaneously. They had a whirlwind courtship of three weeks before announcing their engagement and six months later they married with the full blessing of her parents and within the year their only child, Daniel, was born. But as soon as her maternity leave was over Andreé had been keen to return to work. She seemed to have inherited the same gene as her brother where work was concerned as she loved every moment of her time at the factory. She had been itching to get back and as soon as she had sorted out care for Daniel in the shape of a reliable live-in au pair she picked up where she had left off selling at trade fairs and county shows. WareWork was beginning to occupy an important niche in the corporate clothing market and her presence at these shows became increasingly significant. Potential corporate customers were always impressed with her product knowledge delivered so effortlessly without the need to consult product manuals. From a face-to-face meeting they could have no idea that she was partially sighted and that she had simply had to sit down with the details of each product and with a magnifier and strategically placed lamp learn them by rote and commit them to memory.

  Over the years their working rapport jogged along in a mix of cordiality and practicability sharing the common goal of success in business, the emotion of human relationships not being allowed to cloud any issues of commerce. Rolf could never forget his intense childhood feelings but where business was concerned he kept them on the back burner, well in check. As they approached their forties, with the greater experience of life that came with rearing their own children, Rolf three daughters and Andreé a son, there came a degree of softening of previously hardline views but all that changed when Andreé pried a little too deeply into the company accounts of yesteryear, Rolf and Tommy’s malpractices of those earlier times having seemingly escaped detection to that point. The firm’s initial basic computerisation in the mid-1970s followed by further enhancements during the merger and the period leading up to going public during the course of the next two decades as technology leaped forwards in giant steps would seem to have put paid to anyone discovering the inconsistencies in the stock handling of the early trading days. But petty pilfering had been rife until the stock and sales accounting procedures had been computerised and Max had addressed the problem personally by surreptitiously logging stock movements and checking them against the sales ledgers, a task he did quietly and discreetly without anyone knowing what he was doing save Alan. He was of a mind to let sleeping dogs lie for occasional inconsistencies but most of the unaccounted stock went missing in bulk and it wasn’t long before he identified the culprit, his own son. It was stealing and Rolf was biting the hand that fed him and after a lifetime of hard work and honesty M
ax felt disgusted, his own son taking the firm for a ride. What’s more, Rolf had put him in a tricky position as he had to report back to Alan and despite the coolness of their relationship blood was thicker than water and he was loath to tell Alan that his son was the offender. But he had to tell him something and it had to be convincing as Alan was no mug. Max couldn’t blame the losses on any member of staff and he therefore came to the conclusion that the only person he could hold accountable was the wholly innocent Andreé. Most of the thefts coincided with her school summer holidays when she did odd jobs in the factory to earn extra pocket money, she would have been in her late teens at the time. Max would say that due to her impaired sight she must have mixed up stock that was still saleable albeit at hugely discounted prices from that which was deemed fit only to be dumped. If Alan believed him he would accept that the losses were not wilful and he would close the folder on the matter. Max would have been grateful for advice but it was a burden he felt unable to share and in the end it had been Rolf who resolved the delicate situation by bringing it to a head and leaving his father with no other option. He had gone into his father’s office in a bolshie mood one morning complaining about a buyer parking in his usual spot in the car park and demanding that a sign with his name on it be put up to prevent it re-happening. In a quiet but authoritative voice Max had told him that he would have to wait until he became a director before he would get a named spot and Rolf had flown into a rage and in an unguarded moment Max had added that he wasn’t sure that somebody who defrauded the company deserved a parking spot.