Martin Bodenham

by The Geneva Connection

  “Let’s have another one,” he said, already filling up their empty glasses.

  Kent could feel the alcohol going straight to his head. He enjoyed the feeling. He deserved it. The last few weeks of uncertainty had been hell.

  Just before midnight, he suggested they make their way back to their rooms. He could easily have ordered another bottle, but it was late, and they had a flight to catch next morning.

  As they stepped out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor, Kent tripped and went crashing to the ground. He got to his feet quickly, and the two of them burst into howls of laughter. He held Tara’s hand for steadiness as they made their way to their rooms along the wide corridor.

  Just before they reached Tara’s door, she dropped her card-swipe key. Kent picked it up and placed the card into the door for her, and the door opened.

  “Thanks, John. Goodnight.” Tara began to walk into her room.

  “Tara.”

  She turned back round. Quickly, he put his left hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him. He kissed her for several seconds; his nostrils filled with her perfume. She put both hands around his lower back and pulled him closer. He kissed her lips and neck as she leaned against the wall next to the bed.

  Kent’s placed his left hand under the short hem of her black dress. She guided his hand between her legs. Immediately, Kent felt her warmth and, as she placed her tongue into his mouth, he followed by sliding his fingers inside her. She was excited.

  After a few moments, he unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She’s beautiful. He began to kiss her shoulders and breasts. Tara dropped onto her knees and unzipped Kent’s suit trousers. She took him into her warm mouth, slowly at first and then a little faster.

  Suddenly, she stopped. “John, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She pulled away. “It’s not right.”

  He left the room and returned to his suite. You bloody fool. He felt an overwhelming guilt. The night was ruined.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The following morning, Kent was down first for breakfast. He avoided eye contact when Tara came over to join him.

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Kent. “I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to say. We were both drunk. Nothing happened.”

  “We won’t discuss this again. It never happened.”

  “That’s right. It never happened.”

  Breakfast seemed to last for hours and the conversation was filled with awkward silences. When they’d finished eating, Kent made some excuse about having to make a number of important calls in his room and suggested they meet in the lobby when the limo was scheduled to take them back to the airport.

  They were back at CBC by two p.m. By the time they arrived, they’d reconciled themselves to the previous night’s events and had agreed to concentrate on the business success of the trip. They were both mature adults. They could move on from this.

  Kent immediately called a partners’ meeting and briefed everyone on the discussions with Tritona. It was clear to him they’d all been expecting the worst. They wanted to hear all of the details. He gave a blow-by-blow account, but they still wanted to hear more, particularly the bits about their new investor’s enormous investment appetite. They couldn’t hear enough about the size of their new checkbook. Tara filled in any gaps from the notes she took during the trip.

  “There are a number of action points which flow from yesterday,” said Kent, bringing the euphoria to a close. “First, we need to cover off the usual compliance checks on Tritona.” He looked at Kevin Long. “Kevin, I’d like you to deal with these. You’ll need to involve Tara in the process. She has all the details on Tritona’s corporate structure and the families behind them.”

  “Sure. I’ll get right onto it. Tara, let’s have a few minutes straight after the meeting, please?” said Long. Tara nodded.

  “Can you also draft a letter for me to send to the FSA? We need to inform them of these important developments,” Kent said.

  “Will do.”

  “Second, I’d like a strong message to go out to our other investors, telling them we’re back. It would be great if they decided to recommit their two-and-a-half billion. Adrian, can you pick this up and let me see a draft announcement tomorrow?”

  “No problem,” said Johnson, smiling from ear to ear. At last he had some good news to share with his investor contacts. “I can’t wait to tell them.”

  “Finally, we need to get the PR message out quickly. The market needs to know we now have a much fatter investment checkbook. We’ve had a lot of negative press lately — especially from that lunatic at the Financial Post. I want to rub his nose in it.” Kent stopped to take a sip of his coffee. “It’s essential we make a big splash about our ability to do deals again. We need to ramp up the deal flow. I want us to show Tritona some early results.” Kent would normally wait for the compliance checks to be completed before announcing to the market that CBC had signed up another investor. This was different. He couldn’t wait for the market to learn he’d rescued his firm and come back even stronger.

  “You can bet our competitors have been exploiting our difficulty,” said Kirkland.

  “Dead right, Joanna. I’ll handle the PR with Paul.” Kent nodded toward Prentis.

  Kent turned to Kirkland and Henning. “It’s worth contacting Doug Wright to see if we can get back into that deal. It was a great deal, after all.”

  “I’m pretty certain the deal’s not completed yet. Let’s put a call in after this meeting,” replied Kirkland. “You never know.”

  “It won’t be an easy conversation,” said Henning.

  “Don’t look so worried, Anton. We’ve nothing to lose,” replied Kent.

  They moved on to discuss new deal inquiries. Although the flow of new business opportunities had fallen away after CBC lost the backing of Grampian, there were still some new deals to consider and terms to kick around. Business as usual.

  At five o’clock., Kent, Kirkland and Henning went back to Kent’s office to make the call to Henderson Wright. “I’ll make the call on the speaker phone,” said Kent. “Tara, could you get hold of Doug Wright for us?”

  “Sure.” She called their offices. “Putting Mr. Wright through to you.”

  “What the hell do you want?” asked Wright.

  “Doug, as you know, we lost our cornerstone investor just as we committed to do your deal a few weeks back. We’d really like to take another shot at it, now we have the checkbook back.”

  “We don’t need your money. Now fuck off!” Wright slammed down the phone.

  “That went well,” said Kirkland.

  “He must’ve found the money elsewhere. Shit!” said Kent. “Let’s follow the deal as their backers might still pull out. You never know.” He knew a deal was never done until it was signed at the completion meeting. He’d seen a number of situations where a private equity firm had pulled out of a deal close to the finish line. Some of Kent’s best deals had been completed in just this situation, where he could step in and rescue the investment at the last minute and name his terms.

  Kent made it home that night for seven o’clock. Sarah wanted to know all about the meeting with Tritona. He’d only had time to send her a brief text that morning, to share the good news.

  “That’s wonderful, John. I’m really proud of you,” she said. He hugged her.

  “It’s a huge relief. Feels great to be back.”

  “How do you feel about Tritona as a shareholder in your firm?”

  “It’s a small price to pay for such a huge commitment. I’ll still have majority control. We’re going to be rich on the back of this, Sarah.”

  “Tell me all about the meeting. I want to hear everything.”

  Kent was delighted to share all the details, except one. The guilt was eating him up inside.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jonathan Gateley took the north exit from St Paul’s tube station and darted into Caffé Zero at the end of Cheapside. It was be
ginning to rain.

  “Strong white Americano?” asked the server. Gateley was a creature of habit. The server was already making it before he answered.

  “That’s great, thanks.” He placed the exact money on the counter, grabbed the coffee, and doubled back across Cheapside and into Paternoster Square, heading for his offices on the north side of the square. He kept close to the buildings to avoid the rain.

  Gateley took the express elevator to the nineteenth floor, taking care as he rushed not to spill his hot coffee. The modern glass sign to the left of the reception area read, “Oakham Fiduciary Services — Offices in London, Guernsey, Nassau, Singapore, and Hong Kong. Wealth management for high net worth individuals and multinational corporations.”

  He was in a hurry. He was due to meet a client at six p.m. He knew he was cutting it fine when he left his previous meeting in Chelsea at five fifteen. He could have saved some time by going straight to the office, but he preferred the coffee at Caffé Zero over the brown liquid served in the office so he took the chance. It was the right call. He made it to the meeting room with five minutes to spare.

  Gateley was the CEO and one of Oakham’s four directors. He was well-known in investment circles for his big tax brain. Today’s meeting was with a new client and his accountant. The client had just sold his IT company for two hundred and forty million pounds and wanted Gateley’s advice on where best to hold the proceeds pending the client’s later investment instructions.

  After the meeting, Gateley returned to his corner office. On one side was a view of the London Stock Exchange and on the other St Paul’s Cathedral.

  “Do you have a minute?” asked Gordon Thompson, one of Gateley’s senior team members, as he walked through the door.

  “Sure,” said Gateley.

  “We’ve received another investment instruction from Tritona in Geneva. The client wants us to invest three hundred and fifty million pounds of the cash we hold for them in Nassau in these FTSE 100 companies.” Thompson handed over a list of six of the largest one hundred companies listed on the London Stock Exchange. “As with last month’s instructions, the client is less concerned about the share price, but doesn’t want the market to think they’re building up a block in these shares. They don’t want the attention.”

  “I know they like a low profile.”

  Thompson laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. I’ve never come across a firm more secretive than that lot.”

  “As long as they keep paying our fees, we’ll do what they want. I assume they’d like us to spread the purchases across a number of their holding companies as before?”

  “That’s right. I’d value your advice on which vehicles to use and in which jurisdictions.”

  “No problem. How quickly do they want us to build up these holdings?”

  “Over two weeks, three at the outside. They said they’ll have a similar amount to invest next month.”

  Gateley mapped out on a sheet of paper where the cash should first be transferred, which of the client’s existing trust arrangements should be used, and which brokers should be used to effect the share purchases in each jurisdiction.

  “Can you have a copy of this typed up and put on the client’s file, as usual?”

  “Will do, Jonathan. Thanks for the help.”

  It was a crisp late March morning. The outside temperature was just below zero, but didn’t feel like it due to the crystal clear blue sky. Kent had parked the BMW in the four-car garage at The Old Hall the night before. He couldn’t be bothered with scraping ice from the windscreen so he rarely left the car outside during the cold months. He was a little later than usual as he wasn’t going to the office. This gave him time to have breakfast with Sarah, something he was trying to make more time for these days. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for his indiscretion with Tara. While spending more time with his wife would not absolve him, at least it made him feel a little better.

  He was due in Leeds at eleven thirty for a regular board meeting at one of CBC’s investee companies. Each of the partners took primary responsibility for a number of portfolio companies. This involved sitting on the company’s board as a director and working with its management team in order to maximize the value of the business. While it wasn’t his favorite part of the job, he understood how the right focus on investee companies created increased realization values when the businesses were eventually sold.

  On the drive to Leeds, he made several calls on his mobile phone. The first was to Kevin Long.

  “Where are we up to on the Tritona compliance checks, Kevin?”

  All regulated financial services companies were under strict legal requirements to check out the identity of new investors and to ensure they didn’t appear on the Bank of England’s blacklist before accepting capital from them.

  “We’re in pretty good shape, but there’s been quite a lot of paperwork to wade through. I’d expect to have it all signed off pretty soon.”

  “I know it’s a pain. They have a complex structure.”

  “The time consuming bit is building the file in case the FSA chooses us for an audit.”

  “It’s tedious. The real criminals will always find a way around the rules. In the meantime, it’s us poor suckers that have to jump through hoops.”

  As CEO of CBC, Kent had ultimate responsibility for compliance as far as the FSA was concerned so he took these compliance checks seriously. Not that they changed the way he did business. It was in CBC’s own interest to do things properly. He knew it took years to build up a good business reputation and that this could be shattered in moments if there was any hint of illegal activity.

  “Will you let me know when everything’s been completed? I want to get on investing Tritona’s money. It would be good to show them some early results.”

  “Certainly will. My guess is it’ll all be done by tomorrow evening.”

  “Good man.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two days later, Kent was sitting in his office when he took a call from Baumgart.

  “How are you, Dieter?”

  “Very well, thank you,” said Baumgart. Kent held the handset slightly away from his ear. Baumgart was loud enough in person. Hearing his voice booming down the line was unbearable. “I’m calling from Singapore. I’ve had to come over here on an unexpected business trip. I was hoping to be in London tomorrow for a deal completion, but that’s not possible any longer. It would have been a good opportunity for us to meet up and see where we are on everything.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t meet up. Maybe next time.”

  “There’s something you guys could do for us.”

  “Always happy to help.”

  “Good. As you know, before committing to your fund, all of our private equity investments were handled by us directly and not through fund managers. We have another direct deal completing tomorrow. It involves us putting one billion pounds in the transaction. All of the legal documentation is ready, and the due diligence is complete, but there are the usual last-minute matters which need to be dealt with at the completion meeting in London tomorrow.”

  “We’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping.”

  “Can you e-mail over the draft documents and a power of attorney so we can sign on your behalf?”

  “I’ll ask Franz Kulpman to send over everything you need today. When you’re happy everything’s in order tomorrow, all you need to do is contact Gordon Thompson at a firm called Oakham Fiduciary Services in London, and he’ll transfer the money electronically. They hold some of our cash. I’ll get him to call you with his details.”

  “I’ll let you know when it’s completed. Have a safe trip back from Singapore.”

  “Thanks. One more thing. We’d like you to manage this investment on our behalf. Of course, the monthly monitoring fees will go to CBC, and we can discuss a performance fee linked to the exit value when we next meet.” This relationship’s getting even b
etter, thought Kent. It made sense for Tritona to use CBC to manage any companies bought directly by them. After all, that’s what CBC was good at.

  Tara came into Kent’s office with the e-mail from Kulpman and draft investment agreement an hour later.

  “Thanks, Tara. Could you ask Joanna to join me so we can review these together?”

  “I think you’ll find the deal an interesting read,” she said mischievously.

  “Why do you say that? You can’t have read them already. Even you’re not that quick.”

  “Take a look at the name of the target company on the second page.”

  He looked down at the papers. There it was on page two. Tritona had agreed to invest one billion pounds in Henderson Wright.

  “Wow! What a small world. Those guys in Geneva are smart.” He couldn’t wait to see Kirkland’s reaction.

  Kirkland came in a few minutes later. “I gather we have a deal to complete for Tritona,” she said. “They don’t hang about.”

  “That’s right. You and I need to go down to London tomorrow to complete one of their own direct investments for them. I’ve got the papers here. There’s a copy for you.” He slid a bundle of papers across his desk. “I suggest we look at them for a few minutes together first before both of us digest them over night.”

  Kirkland sat on one of Kent’s armchairs and began flicking through the papers. “You’re never going to believe this,” she said.

  “I know. Tara pointed it out to me a moment ago. I wanted to leave the surprise for you. We’re going to have some fun with Wright tomorrow,” he said, grinning.

  “It gets better. I see Tritona has offered the exact same deal as we did — an eighty percent/ twenty percent split of the equity,” she said.

  “I told you they were shrewd investors.”