by Peter Ralph
Aspine smiled. The article had had a bigger impact than he had anticipated. “Vic, I don’t have mates with pockets that deep. The fact is that our apartments are holding their value because of their quality and finish.”
“Don’t give me crap. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I know it’s a fix-up.”
“Sorry you feel that way, Vic. I’m a busy man, and if you’ve said your piece I’ve got work to do.”
“I’m not finished,” Garland retorted. “I want to know if you’ve really raised the prices of your new apartments, or whether you’ve just increased your list prices, and are letting your sales people discount back to old prices.”
“I don’t let my sales people discount, and we’re getting those increases on our new Docklands apartments. There’s not many buyers out there, but at least when we make a sale we actually make money. It’s a tight market, but if you, Apartco and Urban were to increase prices, at least the sales that we collectively make will be profitable.”
There was a long pause. “You know that what you’re suggesting breaches the Trade Practices Act and, if we were to get caught, we’d be up for millions in fines.”
“I’m not suggesting anything, but if I was, I’d suggest you raise your prices by seven or eight per cent. We went up by seven-and a-half per cent, and you wouldn’t want to match us exactly. Are you close to the management of Apartco and Urban?”
“I’ve already spoken to the decision makers in those companies, and they’ll follow what I do at Vicland.”
“And what are you going to do, Vic?”
“I like making money so I’m going to increase our prices but, if I find that you’re discounting, we’ll bury you in a price war that you won’t survive.”
Aspine gripped his chair hard and fought back the urge to let out an almighty whoopee. ‘Vic, we can control the market if we don’t discount. We builders shouldn’t be competitors or enemies because, when we are, it’s only the customer who wins. It’s the customer who’s really the enemy and, if we all hold prices, no matter who wins the sale, the customer will have to pay up.”
“As long as we don’t get caught,” Garland croaked. “I won’t phone you again at your office, so how are we going to stay in touch?”
“Go and buy yourself and your contacts at Apartco and Urban prepaid mobile phones. I already have one. My number’s 0400 452 047. We’ll talk soon.”
The article in The Australian and the saturation advertising in the Melbourne newspapers had assisted Brad and his sales team to sell twenty-two of the Docklands apartments off-the-plan, with the help of insurance bonds, easy finance and minimal deposits. Compared to prior weekends, it was a good result, but Aspine was bitterly disappointed. He’d been expecting far better and his mind turned to the first quarter’s results, knowing that they wouldn’t be good.
- 22 -
YOUR FAMILY TODAY still carried human interest stories. This had been the bait that Fiona Jeczik had used to lure a successful suburban lawyer to appear on her show. His face had been made up and, as he sat opposite her, the cameras began to roll. “So you help the needy get started with their first house, Mr Dowling?” she said, smiling sweetly.
“Yes, yes my firm does. It’s about giving something back to the community.” Dowling glowed.
“So you provide the initial finance and handle the purchase on behalf of the buyer?”
“Yes, our interest rates are a little higher than the banks, but we have to cover the additional risk.”
“I understand. And the only other consideration that you receive is your legal fees?”
“Yes, but I try to keep my fees to the absolute minimum. I just want to help my clients.”
“And the money that you lend comes from your wealthier clients. Is that right?”
“That’s correct. Their loans are protected by mortgage, and they earn a little more interest than they could from the banks.”
“A win-win for everyone?”
“Well, yes. I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Dowling replied, relaxing in his chair.
“It’s a little strange that most of your conveyancing and finance work comes from one real estate agent isn’t it?” Fiona asked, innocently.
Dowling stiffened in his chair. “I hadn’t noticed. It’s my clients who I’m interested in?”
“And have you had a financial interest in any of the properties sold?”
“No, and I resent that question.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did any company or trust in which either you or your family are involved, or are beneficiaries of, have any interest in any of the properties sold?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Dowling responded, beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead.
“Isn’t it true that you or an entity associated with you purchased a house and land at 24 Salmon Street, Dandenong, for two hundred thousand dollars? And isn’t it true this property was sold to one of your clients for two hundred and sixty thousand dollars one month later? Did you tell your client, when you were advising him and organizing finance, that you were the seller?” Fiona smiled, through thin lips, but her eyes were cold.
Dowling’s face was red and the lights in the studio were like hot coals on his face. “I-I don-don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you get sworn valuations on the properties that you finance to protect your wealthy clients in the event of loan default?”
“Of course.”
“Was 24 Salmon Street valued at two hundred and sixty thousand dollars?”
“I don’t remember the property,” Dowling lied, “but yes, there would’ve been a sworn valuation.”
“And you only use one firm of valuers? How do you, the real estate agents and the valuers split the profits made on fleecing these poor people?”
“Tha...that’s defamatory,” Dowling said, sweat running down his nose onto his lips and chin.
“Sue me,” Fiona replied, her lip curled up in disgust, as the cameras panned in for a close-up of her face.
“Where’s Craig?” Fiona shouted to no-one in particular. “Where’s Craig Chisholm?”
“Great show, Fiona.” The baby-faced man responded, walking from behind one of the cameras. “I’m always on the set when you’re doing your show”
“It wasn’t a great show, Craig. It was the same as what I’ve being doing for weeks. The public’s getting sick of seeing me frying small suburban professionals. I need a big fish. What do you have on Aspine?”
“Nothing new. He’s an overbearing bully, earning a fortune to tear a company to pieces, in the name of downsizing and profit. He’s a typical CEO.”
“You’re my producer, and I value your opinion but Aspine is far worse than that. You need to dig deeper. Talk to the people he’s fired: old girl friends, competitors, former bosses, and anyone else you can think of.”
“I’ve got my two best researchers and our lawyers looking at him. We’re running up huge costs and haven’t unearthed anything other than that he’s a nasty bastard, which we already knew. I’ve been waiting for the bean-counters to haul me over the coals.”
“Just tell them to come and see me,” Fiona said, knowing that management wouldn’t dare challenge her about costs. “Docklands is a disaster for all builders and developers, but Mercury’s running huge advertisements saying that everyone who’s bought and sold one of their apartments has profited. It has to be lies. Check out the selling prices, and then we’ll expose Aspine for what he really is.”
“We already have. What they’re claiming appears to be true. Are you really sure this guy’s any worse than most other CEOs?”
“Definitely, and somehow he’s manipulating the Docklands apartment market.”
“We thought of that. If that was the case, the sales would have to be to his friends and associates at inflated prices. He doesn’t have many friends but, even if he did, why would they pay inflated prices?”
“You’re missing something. Put another two rese
archers onto him. Don’t worry about costs, just keep digging.”
Kerry Bartlett knocked nervously at Aspine’s door. “Ca-can I-I see you, Douglas?”
“I always have time for you, Kerry.”
“I-I’ve finished the first quarter’s figures. Th-they’re no-not good.”
“I guessed they wouldn’t be.” Aspine smiled, walking around his desk and taking a chair next to Kerry. “A small glitch caused by our price rises. Don’t worry, the second quarter’s going to be a boomer.”
“Bu-bu-but the bud-budget was for-forty-two million dol-dollars, and we’ve only made twen-twenty-three million.”
“Fuck! I didn’t think it’d be that bad. How can that be?”
“We-well I-I had to rev-reverse the twel-twelve million adjustment we put through a-at the en-end of December.”
“Oh, so that’s what caused the blowout.” Aspine smiled, placing his hand reassuringly on Kerry’s shoulder. “You just have to hold off on that reversal entry until we have a good quarter’s figures.”
The air conditioning was cold, but the perspiration stains under Kerry’s arms were fresh. “Yo-you to-told me I would-wouldn’t have to fud-fudge the figures again.”
“And I’m not asking you to now. Look, we don’t report quarterly figures to the Stock Exchange, only the board.”
“Yes, bu-but we-we hav-have an ob-obligation to keep the mar-market ful-fully informed.”
“And so we shall. In August we’ll report the half year’s result to the end of June.”
“Bu-but even wi-with the twelve million, we’re still sev-seven million short of bud-budget. We-we’re going back-backwards.”
Aspine placed his hand on Kerry’s knee. “You know we’re going to surpass budget for the rest of the year, so what difference does it make if you increase the adjustment to nineteen million?”
“Yo-you wa-want me to fu-fudge the figures by nine-nineteen million dollars now?” Kerry gasped, barely able to talk.
“Don’t panic, Kerry. It’s not as if I’m asking you to fake the figures for the Stock Exchange or anything. We’ll exceed budget by nineteen million this quarter, and when you report June’s figures they’ll be kosher.”
“Ho-how su-sure are you that every-everything will b-be right by the en-end of June?”
“I’m positive. You’ve nothing to worry about and, besides, the only people who’ll see these figures are the board, and they wouldn’t have a fucking clue about anything. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Is there anything else you want to discuss? No? Good, ask Kelly to come and see me on your way out.”
Kerry rose slowly from his chair, his face tight and drawn, without saying another word.
Kelly was wearing a short white dress, high heels and a near-transparent lemon blouse. As she sat down, he ogled her trim body. “You wanted to see me?”
“We’re going to Hong Kong on Sunday, for a week. Organise the flights and make bookings at the Sheraton?”
“What happened to Switzerland and the West Indies?” She smiled, as if to suggest that he’d been exaggerating.
“They’ve been deferred. Don’t worry, if you’re a good girl I’ll take you there as well.”
“I’ve never been to Hong Kong. I’m so glad I’m going. Will I book business? Who are we seeing? Do I have any appointments to arrange?”
“Well, I couldn’t leave my right arm behind, could I? Book first class, I don’t like flying with losers. Don’t worry about appointments; I’ve already set them up.” Norman Pell, the devious tax accountant, had set up his one and only appointment, with Hong Kong’s leading firm of tax lawyers.
“So what will I be doing? Will I have time to do some shopping?”
Aspine smiled slyly. Other than paying the air fares, accommodation and expenses, Mercury, had nothing to do with his business in Hong Kong. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get some shopping in.”
“It’s so exciting,” she bubbled. “I’m so looking forward to it. Thank you.”
Kelly’s response was spontaneous, and Aspine said nothing to suggest that the trip was for anything but business. “We can do the restaurants, and I can show you the red light areas, if you like?” He smirked. “You’ll see sights that you won’t see anywhere else in the world.”
“I’d like that, but I don’t want to go into any sleazy places. I’ve seen Pat Pong in Bangkok, and I don’t think that Hong Kong’s red light areas will be any different.”
“That’s fine. So the only sleaze will be between you and me.” Aspine laughed light heartedly, while watching Kelly’s face intently for her reaction.
“That’s not going to happen,” she frowned. “I’ll be keeping the door to my room securely locked.”
“But I thought we’d share a suite,” he said, in mock seriousness. “It’d be so much more comfortable.”
“You put me in charge of hotel reservations. I’ll book you a suite, but I’ll also be booking a separate room for myself.”
Aspine was convinced that Kelly was teasing, and that they’d be having a raunchy week in Hong Kong.
Jasmine was becoming more worried about Kerry. They’d gone to Mansfield the previous weekend to buy horses, relax and spend some quality time together and with the kids. Kerry was morose, snappy with the boys, and had shown no enthusiasm or excitement when they’d bought the horses. Worse, she’d found two bottles of brandy in the bedroom that had been converted into a study for him. He’d never drunk alcohol before, and had expressed compassion for those who did. He was withdrawn, but she hadn’t tried to get him to open up. In the few times that he’d been depressed in the past, she had tried to talk him back from his self-inflicted abyss, only to see him withdraw even deeper into himself. Eventually he would snap out of it and, in an outpouring of pent-up emotion, tell her what was bothering him. She already knew − Douglas Aspine and Mercury Properties − but she didn’t know why?
Craig Chisholm was excited. The whistleblower who they had labeled ‘Mercury Rising,’ and who had anonymously leaked Aspine’s remuneration package, had made contact again. They knew that to have access to the board minutes, she had to be a senior Mercury employee. Now she wanted to meet with Fiona privately, without cameras or recorders. She was asking for ten thousand dollars in cash, saying that she would phone back at ten o’clock the following morning to see if Channel Sixteen was prepared to pay. “Hell Fiona, we can’t agree to the ten thousand without knowing what she’s got.”
“If she has anything like those minutes it’ll be worth every cent. When she phones, agree to pay her and set a meeting up. I sense this could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“It’s alright for you. You don’t have to account to those upstairs.”
“I’ve told you before, that if you have any trouble with management or the bean-counters, get them to talk to me.”
-23 -
KERRY BARTLETT SAT in the corner of a dimly lit bar, nursing his third straight brandy. The dark amber liquid warmed him and seemed to ease the stress − even if only for a few hours. It had been twenty years since he’d tasted brandy, when his mother had used it to fight off the flu and bad colds. As soon as he swallowed it, she would hand him a tablespoon piled high with jam to remove the disgusting taste. It was only natural that he would turn to brandy, to ease his current ills, albeit the ones that he now faced were self-inflicted, and bred out of an unrelenting conscience. He had falsified figures submitted to the Stock Exchange, the Securities and Investment Commission, and to the board of Mercury Properties Limited. He’d signed a loan agreement and transferred millions of dollars of Mercury’s monies to Balmoral Finance Proprietary Limited, on the verbal instructions of Aspine. He had authorized cheques for tens of thousands of dollars made payable to tax accountant, Norman Pell, who’d only provided minimal services. It hadn’t worried him at the time, but now, as he stared at his empty brandy glass, he realized there was nothing to tie Aspine to the falsified figures, Norman Pell’s invoices or the loans to Balmoral. W
orse, he’d recently done a search of Balmoral, and found that its paid-up capital was only one thousand dollars; he’d never heard of its sole director; and its registered office was ‘care of the offices of Norman Pell’. Try as he might, he could not fathom how he had managed to get himself into a position where he could go to jail for ten years. It hadn’t been the monetary inducements, but more a desire to please and win the friendship and respect of the powerful and charismatic Douglas Aspine − a desire that remained largely undiminished.
QF29 departed from Tullamarine at 11.00pm on Sunday, and touched down in Hong Kong on Monday at 6.00am. The flight was smooth and uneventful. Aspine slept most of the trip, while Kelly watched movies, played computer games, and ate copiously. She had never travelled in the pointy end of a plane before, and had no intention of wasting even a second of it. Despite this, she was too excited to be tired and babbled incessantly during the cab ride to the Sheraton. “Where are we going today? What do you think I should wear? Who will we be meeting?”
“We’ll take it easy today,” Aspine smiled. “The hotel’s in Nathan Road, and we’re staying in the middle of Hong Kong’s most famous shopping strip.”
“Yes, I know. I looked it up on the net before we left.”
The cab pulled up at the front of the hotel and two bell boys loaded their luggage onto a hotel trolley. They produced their passports at reception, and the attendant took an imprint of Aspine’s credit card. “You have an exclusive suite on the eighteenth level, Mr Aspine,” the attendant said, “and Ms Jenner, you have the adjoining deluxe room.”
As the panoramic elevator rapidly ascended, they took in the magnificent views of Hong Kong and Victoria Harbour. “Let’s take an hour to unpack and clean up, and then we might do some shopping if you’re up to it.” Aspine said.