Taylor was sitting in her office when the governor walked in alone and unannounced. He closed the door behind him.
“Enjoyed your little show over at the press conference,” offered the governor as he strolled slowly over to her window and looked down West Washington Street.
“I didn’t mean to cause a problem governor,” said Taylor. “You said it was fine as long as I only responded to questions when asked.”
“Don’t give me than innocent act. I know that your boy Jason had his little boyfriend ask you that damn question and I know you arranged it.”
“Governor, you’re way out of bounds here.”
“Don’t lecture me, you little bitch. This time I’m giving the lecture and you’re listening.” The governor turned to stare out the window again. “You know Taylor, I was serious about working you in as my lieutenant governor if you played ball with me on the Superior refinery deal. God knows you couldn’t be any worse than Clark, although apparently you have a much more…intimate appreciation for his capabilities than I do.”
Taylor found herself bristling at the reference, but the governor continued.
“Thought you’d make a good running mate. Experience and re-invention, man and woman, the party that puts environment first, all of that crap. God knows at the time I needed a boost in the polls. You blew it, Taylor. I gave you a chance. I asked you to bend a little and play ball with the system and you screw me. Actually, you didn’t screw me; it might even be better if you did. That wouldn’t be half bad.” The governor turned from the window snickering at his own little joke and looking over at Taylor with amusement. He continued, “First, I’ve got to threaten you in order to get you to smooth over the refinery thing with our oil friends. Then in front of my own people you tell me that you are the one who “owns” the oil discovery like you are the one who’s the damn governor. Finally, you make me look like a dumb shit at that press conference by telling everyone we need to exercise caution and that if it were you, you would have “all of the facts” before coming before the people blah, blah, blah.” He was worked up. Taylor sat silently. “It’s not all about you, all the time Taylor, okay? I’m the governor, dammit! And I don’t need you anymore Taylor, you’re through. Now I’ve got the oil discovery. I’m going to win easily. Oh, you can stay here in your little office as long as you like and be a pain in the ass on the environmental stuff, but I’ve talked to our friends in the party and we can’t trust you anymore, Taylor. You’re not one of us anymore, and you’ve proven to be unreliable. When we really need you to come through for us, we can’t have you taking some holier-than-thou stance when we’re trying to get something done for one of our friends.”
Now he turned and walked slowly toward the door as she sat patiently waiting for him to finish. When he reached the door, he opened it and began to step out, turning one last time. “Oh, and you’re not coming to the press conference this afternoon—in fact, you’re not coming to anything I’m doing anymore. It’s a shame darling, but you’re finished.”
The new “oval office” was packed as the governor walked into the room, cameras flashing, film running. The atmosphere was electric. First, the governor made another enthusiastic speech about the strategic effort he had sanctioned to explore all options to “build a better tomorrow,” implying that this had all been his doing from the beginning. Jason and Taylor, just one floor below, watched it all on the tiny black-and-white television Jason kept in his office. Then the governor went on in his best presidential manner to explain the “demanding process” that the state is making the oil companies go through to come up with the four drilling sites. Then he asked representatives from each company to come forward and make their recommendations. Both guys did a nice, brief job talking about forming a partnership with Wisconsin, identified four “likely drilling sites,” committing to nothing, and then it was over. The reporters stayed to ask questions, which were very straightforward, and the press seemed satisfied with a great headline story for both tonight’s and tomorrow morning’s news, “Drilling Soon in Northern Wisconsin.” In closing, the governor put up a huge chart that showed the huge potential size of the field. The chart projected that the state’s revenues from the royalties on the next twenty years of production were likely to reach seventy billion dollars. This amount said the governor, “could even perhaps reach as high as a hundred billion dollars,” depending upon future oil prices. Taylor watched the proceedings in cold calculation and quietly whispered under her breath, “Okay Conlan, I’ll give you a day, maybe two…”
CHAPTER 48
Air France had a late flight from New York to Houston that left at 7:30 p.m. Gerard and his three young analysts all sat together completing some of their work and finalizing their options. They sipped Latour champagne and joked about the stupid Americans. Gerard had tried to reach Hilton directly on the ride to the airport in New York, but Hilton had been out of the office. Finally, Gerard had called from the plane and reached Hilton at home. Gerard told Hilton that he was flying to Houston to conduct a special meeting. Hilton needed to be at Gerard’s meeting, and he needed to bring his vice-presidents of crude and product trading to the meeting. The meeting would start promptly at eight the next morning. There was nothing more to be said.
“Perhaps you can refresh our memories from the last meeting,” said Gerard peering over his glasses toward his lead analyst.
“Last time, we sat at approximately ten million barrels of fuels inventory, primarily gasoline at one dollar and seventy-six cents per gallon.” The young Frenchman clicked off the statistics like a machine as Gerard sat at one end of the table and Hilton sat at the other.
“And the expectation of management here in Houston was what?” said Gerard.
“The agreement was that we would hold our position and management here was firmly convinced that prices were going to improve,” the young analyst snapped back dutifully.
“And after the last two days, since the Wisconsin oil discovery have prices improved?” asked Gerard.
Rather than simply be sent to the firing squad, Hilton was slowly being tortured here by Gerard. Gerard, who hadn’t known a damn thing about the oil trading a few years ago when he came to Houston, was now giving Hilton a lesson for the benefit of everyone to see, including his own trading staff.
“Can we cut the crap here Gerard?” Hilton asked. “You know exactly what prices did yesterday. West Texas Intermediate oil dropped five bucks a barrel on the MERC.”
Gerard never looked at him and continued on, nodding for the analyst to continue.
“Prices have not improved as management here in Houston had assured us they would. In fact, as Mr. Sinclair has mentioned, since we were here at our last meeting, crude oil has dropped a total of five dollars and ten cents a barrel and New York Harbor Gasoline is down eleven point three cents a gallon.”
Now Gerard turned decidedly towards one of the other analysts. “What is our current position on trading activities here in our Houston operations.”
“Why are we singling out Houston here?” asked Hilton. “I bet our Singapore and Paris operations are under water, too. Or did they know that a billion barrels of oil were going to be discovered in Wisconsin?”
“We will deal with Singapore and Paris in Singapore and Paris. We will also deal with Houston in Houston. Do I make myself clear?”
“I’m just saying…” Hilton began to talk but Gerard expertly cut him off.
“I will need your full attention now to the business at hand. Do I make myself clear Mr. Sinclair?” This was not good. He was referring to Hilton again as Mr. Sinclair. Not a good sign.
“Yes, you make yourself clear,” said Hilton. Gerard was giving him no option.
“Now what is our current trading position here in Houston?” Gerard asked again.
“We have lost nearly thirty-seven million dollars since our last meeting. Crude volumes are up thirty-two thousand barrels from our last meeting and products volumes are do
wn three thousand barrels. Since the market opened yesterday morning, we have lost 34.6 million US dollars.” The air conditioning was still coming on late in the morning. The analyst quickly rattled off a few more statistics as the group sat quietly in the still air of the conference room. Hilton was perspiring and looked down the table at his traders. The head of crude was leaning back away from the table with legs crossed. His custom-made ostrich cowboy boots looked almost vulgar next to the expertly tailored young Frenchman sitting next to him.
Gerard looked down the table, measuring each person and each item on the table until he stopped at Hilton. The room was in total silence as Gerard spoke. “Hilton, I believe that last time, you suggested that prices were ‘firming,’ as you described it.”
Hilton looked back at Gerard. “They were, Gerard. Supplies were starting to get tight. Any one of our traders here can tell you that.”
“Yes, and yet prices have in fact gone down dramatically over the last two days.”
“Jesus, Gerard, nobody saw this coming. This is the Iraqi invasion, the oil embargo all over again. You can’t blame me for some jokers up in Wisconsin finding out they’re sitting on a bowl full of oil.” For just a second Hilton got a glimpse of Martin sitting tied in the chair in his apartment. Oddly, he pictured himself at the helm of his yacht, reviewing the latest production reports from the leases he owned on the private land surrounding Chequamegon. Hilton had nothing to lose here. He was going down and he wasn’t about to go down easy. The meeting attendees looked from Hilton to Gerard and back to Hilton. Gerard began to speak. “I am not blaming you, but I am holding you accountable.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean Gerard?” asked Hilton.
“That means that the next time you lose thirty million dollars at a company you might want to give your management a call and let them know the actions you are taking to manage the situation.” Gerard was in control.
“And just for the record, Gerard, what actions were we supposed to take when oil was dropping through the floor? If you and the boys here had some great ideas maybe you should’ve called me up and told me about them.”
“Just for the record, Mr. Sinclair, I did try to call you yesterday and your secretary informed me that you were out of the office.” Gerard reached for a cigarette.
“I had a business meeting, but I was on the phone with my guys here several times. You can check with them. There was just nothing we could do. Prices are going to come back; the market is overreacting to this news and prices are going to bounce back over the next week.” Hilton was on edge.
“We tried to understand when you were completely out of favor in the market six weeks ago. We were patient even though your position had actually worsened when we were here a month ago. But this time Hilton, you have gone over the line.” Gerard had made up his mind.
Hilton stared back at Gerard. “I can recover from this, Gerard. Prices are going to come back. We can buy strongly when the market opens this morning and book the gain when prices recover over the next few days.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Sinclair, but this time we will not be relying on you to recover anything. In simple fact, we will not be relying on you, period. You are free to collect your things now. Effective immediately we are terminating your responsibilities at Petrolea Energy.”
“Based on what?” asked Hilton.
“Based on the fact that you have lost us another thirty million dollars. Based on the fact that you have lost the confidence of management. Based on the fact that you aren’t qualified to be the president of a large international oil trading firm. Need I go on?” Gerard actually smiled.
“I’ve taught you everything you know.” Hilton replied angrily.
“Based on your record here, one can only hope that I prove to be a very poor student,” Gerard said haughtily, his staff joining with him in laughing at Hilton. “Hopefully, your condition will not prove contagious.” Again, a laugh around the table.
“I’m sick of this company. I’m sick of these little shits you keep dragging in here to look over my shoulder and I’m sick of you running down here like a nursemaid every time some friggin’ frog in Paris yanks your chain.” Hilton’s voice was elevated now.
Gerard spoke, “I suggest you be civil, Hilton. We will pay off your employment contract according to our original agreement, but that is at our discretion after we have reviewed all of your files. Now Hilton, if you please, remove yourself.”
“I give a shit about my contract. I’m the president of this company and I don’t have to listen to you or your little jerkoffs here suggest that there was some brilliant action I should have been taking yesterday when prices were falling.” Deep inside, Hilton was kicking himself for not seeing this coming. He had no idea how the Wisconsin authorities had found out about the oil just hours after Hilton had. Had he thought about it, he could have predicted a big fall in prices when the news broke. He still had those leases on private land that would be worth millions.
“With all due respect Hilton, you are not doing yourself any favors here. Much of your employment contract incentives are based on goodwill, which is quickly eroding. I will not tolerate you referring to my staff in such terms.” Gerard blew out a puff of smoke.
Hilton slammed his leather portfolio shut and stood up, his chair wheeling back against the wood paneling of the conference room with a thud. Hilton knew that with those leases in his hands he was going to be a very rich man from that oil in Wisconsin.
“I’ll tell you what I’m not tolerating. I’m not tolerating a bunch of smart-ass French boys in here telling me how smart they are. If you’re so smart, go ahead, you run the damn company and I can’t wait to join one of your competitors and beat your brains out in the marketplace.”
Gerard was completely calm. “It’s really quite simple, Hilton. You have failed. I will be taking things on from here as you have suggested and if you can now pack up your things, I will ask one of the men here to call security to escort you out of the building.”
“I don’t need an escort. I will pack my things and you will be hearing from my lawyer,” said Hilton.
“Very well then, wishing you all the best.” Gerard gazed out the window.
“Oh, go to hell,” said Hilton. With that, his days of employment as the president of Prolea abruptly came to an end.
There was a small armload of stuff to take with him. It was bad luck in the trading business to take all of your old things with you to a new job. The security guard did finally show up. Hilton dumped out his wastebasket and swept his desk items, a walnut inlaid clock and his favorite golf trophies into the basket and handed it to the guard. Then he opened his right bottom desk drawer and removed a stack of personal financial papers, tax files and his own oil trading account activity with Gannon and stuffed it into his briefcase. He had maybe a week before the $600,000 wire transfer to Gannon would show up. By then he would have more money than he knew what to do with. He could explain to Gerard that this had apparently been an oversight on his part and would gladly repay the money.
Once Gerard got the cash back from Hilton, Hilton reckoned Gerard would be happy to keep it quiet for two reasons. First of all, no trading house wanted to publicly admit that they had discovered fraudulent in-house activity. Sometimes it took years to get over that stigma with trading partners. More importantly, if Prolea in Paris found out that Hilton had been able to easily wire transfer $600,000 into his personal account, it would not reflect very well on the oversight and control that Gerard was supposed to be providing for the North American operations.
It was barely 9:00 a.m. and the last thing Hilton wanted to do was go home. He drove down to the Houstonian, bought himself a morning paper and went into the Men’s Grill for breakfast. On the bottom of page one was a big story about the Wisconsin oil discovery. There was a large picture of the Wisconsin governor, surrounded by American flags and a long story about the size and depth of the field with a lot of quotes from a profes
sor in the geology department up at their university in Madison. Hilton carefully read the article and smiled. The state was going to get rich off this oil, but so was Hilton. It was just a matter of time.
After lunch, Hilton headed down the Southwest Freeway and exited Chimney Rock, headed north as far as Richmond, and then turned left. Driving slowly along the boulevard, his eyes swept from left to right, eyeing massage parlors, strip clubs and modeling studios. When he got to Gessner, he made a U-turn and drove slowly back toward the freeway and finally pulled into one of the massage parlors, telling himself he needed to clear his mind. He opened his briefcase and grabbed a handful of cash from his wallet. Then he slipped off the big gold Rolex and tossed the watch and his phone into the briefcase and locked it in the trunk.
CHAPTER 49
Jansen and Mack knew they had the Wisconsin state public lands sewn up, but there was private land over the oil fields as well. They had wanted to send their men to Iron River, Wisconsin immediately after the governor had first called them to get the private land leased. In an hour after talking to Conlan, Jansen had a private jet in the air with four of their best landmen, three company attorneys and $200,000 in cash. But the governor made them wait until after his press conference. Jansen and Mack had decided that Mack and Arbor Energy got the nine landowners on the east side, and Jansen and Empire Oil got the nine on the west. They weren’t battling each other. They just wanted to keep other oil companies out.
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