Unsafe Deposit

by J. E. Kellenberger

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Rolf asked in a voice sufficiently loud to penetrate the thin walls of Max’s office.

  ‘You know full well what I’m referring to,’ replied Max in a controlled tone. ‘I’m referring to a great deal of stock that used to go missing regularly before the stock holdings were computerised.’

  ‘Are you accusing me, Father?’ demanded Rolf, ‘If so you’d better have some damn good evidence.’

  ‘I have the evidence. I collected it myself and it’s all in here,’ said Max pointing to his head. ‘I destroyed the paper copy to protect you.’

  ‘And you expect me to believe that!’ retorted Rolf.

  ‘What I expect you to do and what I want you to do are two different things,’ replied Max sharply, his voice now matching his son’s in loudness. ‘I would have liked you to have owned up, raised your hand in the air and accepted that you were wrong in what you did, pleaded guilty. That’s what I would have liked but I can see from your frenzied expression that you’re not man enough to do that.’

  This dénouement of his fraud took Rolf aback. He just wasn’t expecting it. It was history, of former times when he and Tommy were young men needing money to get their careers underway. They hadn’t done it to fritter the money away on baseless things. They’d both had a purpose. He’d had no inkling that his father had found out. He was surprised and annoyed and his father had touched a raw nerve when he said that he didn’t think Rolf would have the decency to admit to his crime. He’d lost his temper and shouted at his father and probably everyone in the general office would have heard. Not only was it unseemly for management to be seen arguing but they would have heard his father calling him guilty of stealing. Whispers of the scene soon reached Alan’s ears. He had never been convinced that Andreé was responsible for the disappearance of the stock but for Max’s sake he had accepted the explanation given and as no further large thefts had occurred he had let the matter rest. If it wasn’t Andreé then who was it he asked himself, knowing full well that he had always suspected Rolf. Yes, Max would have been covering up for his son rather than admit that he was guilty, a loyalty which Alan believed Rolf didn’t deserve. And the whispers were that Max had called him guilty of something or other. Able and hardworking as he undeniably was, Rolf always placed himself above everyone else whereas his father always put the firm first. Alan would have to watch Rolf very carefully in the run-up to Max’s retirement, warning bells were already sounding that Rolf was not beyond pulling dirty tricks. But as regards the thefts he certainly wasn’t going to bring the deception to light as any hint of fraud leaking out to the media in their now public company could cause the share price to nosedive and direct confrontation with Rolf would probably only elicit some promise that he would fail to keep when the time came. For now he would keep quiet.

  Andreé had sensed his fury as Rolf brushed past her in the corridor. Entering her father’s office she could tell that something unsettling had occurred, the atmosphere was electric and her father was sitting at his desk with his head cupped in his hands. He was unwilling at first to divulge the cause of this upset but under Andreé’s persistence he related the full story. She wasn’t surprised, it was typical Rolf behaviour. Her disappointment was greater than her anger, their seemingly improved relationship having proved nothing more than wishful thinking. For Max too the disappointment was great. Since their trip to the former East Germany they seemed to have established some genuine rapport but as Andreé had said it was just wishful thinking. Rolf would never change. It was just a mystery to both of them how his marriage was such a success.

  Rolf licked his wounds for some time. It wasn’t often he reflected on his own behaviour, he wasn’t prone to self-analysis but in this particular instance he berated himself for making such an issue of the parking spot which led ultimately to the shouting match with his father. Thinking about it calmly now his father had probably known about his transgression for some time and would most likely have never mentioned it to Rolf had he not caused him to lose his temper. He belatedly hoped no one had overheard what was said; it was a secret that Rolf didn’t wish to share with anybody, but Andreé was already in the know and Alan had fitted a few loose pieces into a jigsaw and arrived at the right answer. It was all the more frustrating Rolf thought as he was getting along better with his father than at any time he could ever remember. They had shared a common bond since their trip to his father’s homeland and for the first time in his life he had begun to realise that his parents really did love him. He was proud that his father had passed the treasure down the line and trusted him to do the same in his turn and he had set to the task of finding a way to pass it on to Daniel. It had involved ingenuity and imagination but with the use of a handkerchief, two banknotes, an acetate sheet and a calculator he had created a puzzle that he believed was bomb-proof for all except Daniel. All he now had to do was to familiarise Daniel with the location where it was hidden.

  ‘I’ll get him straightaway, Andreé,’ said Rolf’s wife when she answered the phone.

  ‘Hallo Andreé,’ uttered Rolf in a disinterested tone not expecting that a further family row was about to erupt.

  ‘I’m ringing because I’m very annoyed about you upsetting Father. He was shaken by your rudeness. You had no right to speak to him as you did.’

  ‘I had every reason to speak as I did,’ snapped back her by-now-unrepentant brother, ‘and it’s no business of yours anyhow.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong Rolf it’s very much my business. It seems that I have had to take the blame for something you did, something dishonourable which could have brought the company into disrepute not to mention giving an indicator of your own standard of integrity!’

  Andreé had decided to ring Rolf rather than have a face-to-face argument because this way she wouldn’t be at a disadvantage as she could hear just as distinctly as him. John had counselled her to let matters rest as no good would come of such a confrontation but Andreé felt she should speak up for her father and for herself and his wisdom had been disregarded in her headstrong attitude towards the situation.

  ‘What’s more,’ said Andreé continuing as there was a stony silence from Rolf’s end, ‘I’m not going to put up anymore with your resentment towards me. We’ve both done our best to jog along at work in harmony but the resentment of childhood is ever present in your manner and I’m not putting up with it any longer, especially not from an embezzler!’

  ‘And what evidence of this do you have?’ shouted back Rolf, ‘just like Father, none!’

  ‘I trust Father which is more than I do you,’ retorted Andreé instantly.

  ‘Am I speaking to the golden girl, the number one in her parents’ life?’ Rolf replied cuttingly.

  ‘Your jealousy will be the death of you,’ responded Andreé sarcastically, ‘but if you want to sink that low then I’ve got a few home truths to tell you. When we were kids you made my life miserable, always resentful towards me if Mother and Father gave me even an ounce more affection than you got. You were unbearable and quite frankly it was a relief for all of us when you lived in term time with our grandparents. You had everything going for you while I had nothing but that didn’t stop you making me feel small whenever you could,’ she added vehemently.

  Rolf slammed down the phone. He sat nonplussed in his chair. His sister had never talked to him like this before.

  ‘Are you OK?’ enquired Sylvia as Rolf finally emerged from the study. ‘I heard raised voices.’

  ‘Nothing to trouble you,’ replied Rolf to his wife, ‘nothing to trouble you at all my sweet.’

  But there was something to trouble her. He had not been feeling well just lately. The stress of keeping WareWork profitable was mounting daily and the recent altercation with his father coupled with today’s fraught conversation with Andreé had exacerbated this strain. He was definitely not feeling his normal self.


  Rolf would have been livid had he known the seriousness with which Alan would treat the confirmation that Rolf was responsible for the thefts, probably, Alan surmised, with the aid and abet of Tommy. Unlike his father Rolf was not, in Alan’s opinion, trustworthy and he had a gut feeling that all would not pan out as intended and planned when Max retired. It was something to do with the Swiss factory shares that bothered Alan. After acting as an independent entity for forty plus years it had finally been subsumed into the WareWork envelope and Alan needed to find out how these shares were dispersed, he would discuss it with his son who was better versed in such matters. He would find out soon.

  Max’s retirement in the summer of 1991 was the occasion for a grand party which was held in a huge marquee erected in the company’s ground. Food and drink were plentiful for all the employees, pensioners and their families and there were games for the kids and a disco for the adults. It all culminated in a speech from Alan Gadd outlining the working life of Max and how he had started the business during the war years and praising Max for his loyalty to his employees over the years. Anecdotes and stories were recalled amid laughter and tears and on behalf of the employees Max was presented with a stylised bronze sculpture of WareWork’s logo. After a short but heartfelt reply in which the emotion of the moment almost overcame him Max said how much he would miss everybody but that he was leaving them in good hands. Alan stepped in and called for three cheers and Max departed to warm applause. It had been a day of friendship and enjoyment, the politics over his entrails would start shortly.

  The composition of WareWork’s board of directors had been unchanged since its listing in the mid-eighties. This had given the company continuity and stability which was reflected in its growth. While still a small player in the scheme of listed companies it had been recognised by the board that changes would need to be made to its structure in the near future but that it was probably best to wait for the impending retirement of Max before doing so. Rolf occupied a directorship without defined portfolio, his duties being an overview of all company activities and with the sole responsibility for the Swiss branch. The lending bank had imposed their man on the board to look after their interests and generally speaking he had fulfilled his role well. The fifth member of the board was a non-executive director who had a respected track record in the ceramics industry and whose advice and counsel over the years had profited the company. He had been on friendly terms with Max for many years before joining the board and as he was of a similar age he had made it known that he would step down when Max retired. The remaining members of the board met two days after Max’s retirement party. Although he remained the beneficial owner the control of Max’s shareholding had now passed to Rolf and it was at this point that Rolf revealed how he had incorporated the Swiss business shareholding into that of WareWork so making him the majority shareholder. He proposed that he be made CEO and the board, now effectively down to two members and the bank’s man, had no alternative but to agree to the proposal. Alan was white with fury but as his son had pre-warned him no good would come of arguing against a situation which was a fait accompli even if it had involved trickery and deceit. The short meeting closed with agreement to meet a fortnight hence when the make-up of the new board would be discussed. Alan left with revenge on his mind and in his heart. Rolf was not going to get away with this scot-free.

  In recent times the Gadd family had discussed frequently the possible scenarios which could occur with Max’s departure from the firm. Alan’s elder son Simon, a junior tax inspector, had told him that his hearsay evidence of Rolf’s previous frauds was so flimsy that if challenged in the court by Rolf as it obviously would be it would not hold up. Think laterally on this Dad, he had said to his father, you might not get him on fraud charges but you can find some other way to topple him. And so the family had looked at other avenues for redress. What was his Achilles’ heel? They soon agreed that what would hurt Rolf more than anything else would be for WareWork to falter and become unprofitable. Adam, a software programmer, mooted the idea of undercutting some of WareWorks’ core products by manufacturing abroad and selling online. He explained that the World Wide Web was no longer in its infancy and being used only by university scientific researchers and other such boffins but was now moving relentlessly into commerce and websites for everything under the sun were being set up on a daily basis. Alan and Ella were not of the age bracket to know much about computers and although wary they listened carefully to what Adam proposed. When Simon told them that he had already made several purchases online after viewing the products on the website and reading their technical descriptions they were won over. An hour or so later they had hammered out their plan. Alan would begin research to find a manufacturing base in Eastern Europe or in south-east Asia. He would also identify which products if flooded onto the market at substantially lower prices than WareWorks’ unit prices would most harm the company. Simon would advise on the various tax breaks on offer for start-up companies and they would set their stall in order to take advantage of as many of these as possible. Once production was underway they would rent a unit on an industrial estate as a warehouse for their stock. A private limited company would be set up straightaway at Companies House with Alan’s wife Ella listed as director. Adam would resign from his job and from his bachelor flat he would set up the website. They would pool their financial resources to buy sufficient stock. Ella would continue in her longstanding job as an art teacher until the business gathered pace and she was needed to help Adam. On concluding their family meeting Simon had told his father that Switzerland was being forced into a new tax agreement with the UK and therefore it might prove a smart move to monitor Rolf’s business trips there just in case he was being forced into moving his offshore money to Liechtenstein. Following a few discreet enquiries Alan engaged a firm of investigators and Paul Rocheford was assigned to their case. Street Cred Investigators, staffed entirely by retired police officers, had a wealth of experience in surveillance services and when the opportunity arose for this unusual job Paul had been quick to make it known that he would love a jaunt in such a beautiful country.

  Some weeks later a short article was printed in the financial press by the analyst R.E. Raven of changes in the board of directors of WareWork following the retirement of their longstanding CEO Max Berghoff. Rolf Berghoff, the son, would take over as managing director while the former deputy CEO and joint-founder Alan Gadd would retain his directorship but would in future be chiefly responsible for Research and Development. New to the board would be two women. Andreé Walker (neé Berghoff) would become the sales & marketing director. She had worked loyally for the company for many years and had an exceptional track record. The other woman was Marian Bowden who was a chartered secretary and had formerly been a high flyer in the insurance sector. She had risen to become a junior partner in a well-known London firm of insurance brokers but had had a mental breakdown after the birth of her second child when she had found juggling work commitments with family life too stressful. Her children were now teenagers and Marian had returned to the insurance sector working part-time. She was well regarded by all who worked with her and keen to take up the post of non-executive director when it was offered. In concluding the article the analyst allowed for some speculation regarding the sideways movement of the non-retiring founder. In a reference to former Prime Minister Harold MacMillan’s decimation of his cabinet in the late 1950s the writer wondered if the demotion had occurred in the night and with a long knife. Arthur Meares read the article with great interest. He had a stake in the Berghoff fortunes. Rolf was currently doing him an unwilling favour, a payback for a former lapse in good manners. Arthur glowed with satisfaction. It wasn’t just the retribution he was extracting that made him feel good it was also the classy manner in which he had applied the pressure. His father, Arthur Meares Snr, would have been proud of him. Arthur Jnr had moved on and up from the threatening and harassing methods of his father, brain power was
his criminal weapon of choice and it was thanks in great part to the expensive private education paid for by his father’s criminal activities and to Arthur’s love of the arts that rounded him into a cunning but sophisticated criminal. Born within the sound of Bow Bells, any resemblance to the Cockney he could rightly claim to be had long since been discarded in favour of the portrayal of an upper middle-class background with an appropriate change of accent. No-one would ever have guessed that the other, rough, coarse, semi-literate Arthur was his father.

  The new members of WareWork’s board of directors met for the first time in what used to be the sample room where all the products dating back to the merger of the two separate companies were exhibited in wall units around the room and current product was displayed mostly on mannequins in the centre so that buyers could have a hands-on approach to purchasing. Max had favoured the informal approach to board meetings as the company at its birth was small and there were few directors but Rolf’s vision was for more rigid meetings following a strict agenda. He arranged to have the sample room completely refurbished in a simple but modern style and with all the technological gadgetry of the period to fit in with this formality. The boardroom table was solid oak, unstained but finished in a matt varnish and of a simple, uncluttered design. Seven chairs in the same oak finish and with dark brown leather upholstery were arranged around the table, three along each side and one at an end. When the meeting convened Rolf, seated at the head of the table, welcomed everyone and asked the new board members to introduce themselves and give a brief résumé of their background. Andreé, whom he had felt compelled to invite onto the board since their revealing spat commenced with a short account of her family connections with the firm and her previous responsibilities mostly in sales. Fearing Rolf’s disapprobation in their currently prickly rapport she purposely omitted any reference to her disability but her success in business had brought her to the attention of several charities representing ocular conditions and she had made a name for herself as a guest speaker. Her relaxed manner and lack of notes made her a natural for the role, showing what could be overcome with effort and perseverance. She would have liked to have told the other new lady member that although she always put WareWork first she was also proud to have the opportunity to try to inspire others who were similarly disabled. Andreé ended her brief account by saying that she had recently accepted an invitation to join a City of London livery company as an associate member. Marian Bowden, the godchild of one of WareWorks’ insurance advisors, then spoke at length about her background in the insurance sector and her general experience in the world of commerce and how she was looking forward to contributing to WareWork in her capacity as a non-executive director. The third and last new member was the finance manager Alan Carter who had been promoted to the board and would henceforth swap his title of manager for director. He was, of course, known to everyone except Marian who was the only one who managed to raise a laugh to his much repeated joke that it was only a small horizontal stroke of the pen that separated his mail going to Alan Gadd and vice versa so Alan Gadd had better pay all his bills on time! Alan Gadd wasn’t in the mood for any joke let alone one as feeble as that but many a truth had been spoken in jest.