Plantation A Legal Thriller

by J M S Macfarlane

  Chapter 55

  Almost a year before the death of his father and his return to London, Robert Ashby had been in Houston for nigh on twelve months.

  One afternoon, his boss who was the head of Texas Fire & Guaranty, called him into his office. He had some good news for him.

  “Robbie,” (Charles Fairweather III, always called him that), “we’re mighty pleased with how you’ve been workin’ with us here.”

  Fairweather was an old army man who liked his bourbon, steaks and cigars, kept an automatic in his desk and had an enviable handicap at golf ; he might have been sixty seven but he could still drink anyone half his age under the table. There was a steely glint in his eye which said that if you crossed him, you’d better look out. He’d been in the North Africa campaign and on Omaha Beach on D-Day and had got through unscathed. At the end of the war, he’d gone back to the States and had chosen insurance as his career. In those days, no-one had heard of Texas Fire as it did mostly Mom and Pop business. Fairweather spent the next thirty years building it up, like Jim Ashby had done in London. At the start of the eighties, it was the largest insurer in the southern States and one of the top ten in the US. Now he wanted to expand into neighbouring countries and to tap into the lucrative reinsurance market – with Plantation.

  “Do you know that in the short time you’ve been with us – just on a year, the profitability ratio on your business portfolio has rocketed by six hundred per cent ? Son, that is superlative. You’re our best underwriter. In fact, no-one has ever been as good as you – myself included – and that’s one helluvachievement. So, I wanna reward you and also offer ya a big opportunity. Right now, South America’s boomin’. All those countries down there – they’re growin’ like wildfire. They’ve been borrowin’ money from US banks like crazy. They are really developin’ their economies. So we wanna part of the action. Ya know, our clients like you a lot. And because you’ve got such a cautious eye, son, that’s a big advantage in this business. You’re a real chip off the old block. I’ve told your dad in London that you’re doin’ fine with us, so how would you like to do a tour of all our South American clients ? Go and see all the brokers – they’ll be your guide. I’m told you speak some Spanish ? And maybe a bit of Portuguese ? Is that right ? That’s great. So, how about it ? When can you go ?”

  Ashby rang his father and told him the news. Jim Ashby was pleased that his son was doing well in Texas but sounded preoccupied, even distant. Only a year earlier, the merger between Plantation and Stirling had got under way. Looking back, his father had sounded worn down by it.

  While Ashby wasn’t proficient in Spanish or Portuguese, he found it easy to learn new languges from books and tapes. His secretary had a list of the hundred insurers, brokers, oil companies, cattle ranchers, shipowners, exporters, coffee growers, manufacturers, government departments and politicians he was to visit during his month away. His trip would start in Mexico. After that he’d move south through Central America and then the South American continent in an anti-clockwise direction, beginning with Colombia.

  It took a week for his secretary to write to all of the brokers and clients he’d be visiting and another two weeks to receive confirmation of the meetings he’d have with them. Everything was slower in those days. By early February, his itinerary was in place. Chuck Fairweather gave him a credit card, they had a few bourbons together and he was told to go off and bring in lots of new business.

  A few days before he left for Mexico City, he received an unusual ‘phone call out of the blue.

  “Mr Ashby ? Jonathan Trowers. I’m the British Consul in Houston. We’ve never met. I understand you’ve been working in Texas here for a while now. I meant to look you up some time ago. Most remiss of me. Anyway, the reason for the call is that we like to foster relations with our American cousins and to do that, we encourage British members of the business community here to act as our ambassadors, so to speak. Now, we’re having a dinner at the Hilton tomorrow evening. Could you join us ? I really won’t take no for an answer.”

  The call was unexpected for Ashby who had no idea that there was any British ‘community’ in Houston or that there was even a British Consul at all. If he’d known, he would have done his utmost to avoid them. But the Consul was insistent and refused to be put off so there was no way of getting out of it. Thus he resigned himself to an evening of tedium with a collection of public school and Oxbridge bores who were in the oil industry. Nearly all of the expatriates who worked in Houston were employed by international oil companies, two of which were wholly or partially British.

  He knew the Consul had rung him for a reason. He wanted something. It wasn’t to be a social occasion. Not entirely. Perhaps a large donation for charity.

  When he arrived at the Hilton the following night, the gathering was as expected. Trowers introduced himself and then circulated amongst his guests but before doing so, took Ashby aside and said “Wonderful to meet you at long last. Quite a good turn out, isn’t it ? I hadn’t expected this many people. What are you drinking ? I’d go easy on the cocktails – they do give one a ghastly hangover the next day. No champagne, unfortunately, budget doesn’t run to it. Scotch and soda is always a safe bet. Now, I must see you privately before you go. I hear you’re off to South America soon. How do I know ? Well....anyway, I must speak to you, so be sure to see me before you go. Agreed ? Good. What’s it about ? Well, hang around and I’ll fill you in. Tout a l’heure.”

  While it all sounded rather strange, Trowers had obviously spoken to people who knew Ashby personally and the work he did. If he knew about the South American trip, he’d probably spoken to Chuck Fairweather. Only a few people in Texas Fire knew about it. What was the connection ?

  He suffered the usual crowd who were in the States for a year or two before being posted somewhere else in the world. The wives were the worst and complained about everything they couldn’t get in America – there was no proper tea or anywhere to shop like Harvey Nichols and on it went. If they were back in Britain, they’d be whining about the standard of things there, thought Ashby.

  The dinner was forgettable. By nine o’clock when one or two guests were starting to leave, he saw his chance. He found Trowers and said “I’m sorry, I must go, I have an early start. You wanted to speak to me about something,” whereupon Trowers made his apologies to the group he was holding captive and led Ashby out of the room.

  “This way,” said the Consul and showed him to an ante-room. “I won’t detain you long. Please, have a seat. Now, you’re probably wondering what this is all about. I will explain all but it might be easier if you hear what I have to say first then ask questions when I’m finished. Well, then. You work for Texas Fire & Guaranty.”

  “I do.”

  “As Consul, I represent the UK here at a local level. You’re off soon on a trip round South America. Don’t worry about how I know – that isn’t important. The reason why I know is that I look after British interests in this part of the world – usually fairly trivial matters – people from home getting into trouble with the authorities, that sort of thing. However, a Consul also acts as London’s eyes and ears abroad....You don’t mind if our discussion remains confidential ?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good. Well, the point is this : you’re probably unaware – most people are, that Britain has Overseas Territories in the South Atlantic, close to Antarctica. They’ve been inhabited by British settlers since the early nineteenth century. As is usual in South America, they’ve been the subject of territorial claims – by Argentina. Recently, there’s been some sabre-rattling in Buenos Aires – they had a military coup in ’76, the generals are running the government, economy’s in a mess, looking for a scapegoat, anti-colonial protests....that sort of thing. Certain hotheads down there have been pushing for an invasion.”

  “Invasion ?”

  “You wouldn’t have seen anything much in the newspapers about it. Most of the countries in South America are always in an unce
rtain state, nothing new. Even at home, it's gone unnoticed. But not by everyone – we do have friends there and our Embassy – they’re alarmed at the situation – so far, it's being ‘monitored’ in London. Those doing the monitoring would like to know a little more.”

  “What have I to do with it ?”

  “You’ll be going there in a commercial capacity. You may even be meeting members of their government and doing business with them. If they’re preparing a military build-up for an assault, you may see evidence of that yourself or in their commercial dealings. This type of information isn’t publicly available. It would be concealed, especially from the likes of foreign diplomats. You however, will be in a different position. If they need reinsurance for certain activities or hardware which supports their armed forces, they will have to tell you about it or their accounts will refer to it, won’t they ?

  “Possibly. Governments don’t cover military equipment which might be destroyed such as fighter jets. That just doesn’t happen. But they do want security for others things – supplying commodities to government departments or maintaining property.”

  “Yes, well, to sum up, the question is whether their commercial and economic dealings show that they’re gearing up for a full military assault. In short, will they be waging a war against us ?”

  “A war ? Are you serious ?”

  “Perfectly. From our perspective here, it seems a real possibility. Some people are even saying that it’s highly likely. Argentina has claimed sovereignty over our Overseas Territories for some time.”

  “Which Territories are they ?”

  “South Georgia, the South Sandwich Islands and the Falkland Islands. You mightn’t have heard of them. The Falklands are also referred to as Las Malvinas by the Argentineans, so I’m told.”

  “But what do you want me to do ?”

  “Pass on any information which confirms our suspicions. I will give you a telephone number to ring in Whitehall. You can speak to someone there who will de-brief you. It will be a secure line so you needn’t be worried about talking freely.”

  “Who will I ring ?”

  “The name of your contact is Malory. Got it ? Here is his number. Keep it somewhere safe. When you’re back from South America, give him a call. Alright, then ? Good.”