Osman Sharif glowed with pride at Sam’s compliment.
‘Sam, you must be wondering why I asked you to visit us here in Katameya Heights,’ said the ex-deputy president. He looked awkward as the conversation crept towards its conclusion.
‘I am honoured to have been the guest of your family. But yes, the thought had crossed my mind.’
‘Cantara tells me you are planning to sell the design rights for the solar car, the Sirius, for a pittance?’
‘Those are Rex Daingerfield’s wishes.’
‘And what are your wishes?’
‘We need the money from the sale of the Sirius to secure the future of the solar panel factory. As it stands, the financing for the solar panel business is on a knife edge.’
‘I was thinking more about the future of the Sirius motor vehicle. I have seen the model and it is an object of rare beauty.’
‘My father is a car connoisseur, Sam. He has a collection of European sports cars in a warehouse in Cairo,’ explained Cantara.
‘I’m sure we can arrange for you to acquire the clay model once we have sold the design rights, Mr Sharif.’
‘You misunderstand me, Sam. I would be interested in acquiring the full package including the design, technology, manufacturing and sales rights.’
‘Those rights all belong to Rex Daingerfield. You would have to make an offer to him. And besides, it would take hundreds of millions of dollars of investment to get to a stage where it would deliver a financial return of any kind. Only an established motor manufacturer could turn the Sirius into a reality.’
‘I have already approached Rex Daingerfield. He told me he offered the full rights of the car to you and he is awaiting your reply.’
‘He has?’ said Sam, confused.
‘He said the offer price was five million dollars.’
‘I didn’t believe he was serious, and I already told him I don’t have the money.’
‘He insisted you had first right of refusal. He also said all decisions relating to the sale of the Sirius should go through you, as the proceeds will be ploughed back into the solar panel company.’
‘I see. But why would you want to buy a motor vehicle company? The financial risks would be immeasurable.’
‘I have cancer, Mr Jardine. If I’m lucky, I have three years to live. I must consider the legacy I will pass to my two daughters, who mean the world to me. I don’t believe it would be right to leave them money, as it will lead to an unfulfilled and meaningless life. Rania has found her calling, which is to make Egypt safe from those who would destroy us. Cantara’s dream is to make the world safe from the effects of global warming. A solar-powered vehicle, if successful, would revolutionise how cars are built and lead to the fulfilment of her dream. My wish is to have Cantara run that company.’
Sam stared out of the window at the lush green gardens beyond. He realised the Sharif family were watching him intently.
‘I’m sorry to hear about your illness, Mr Sharif. It’s a noble thing you are doing, and your two daughters are fortunate to have such a devoted father. I would love to help you, but I’m not sure if you realise the sheer magnitude of the task you would ask Cantara to bear.’
‘I have the support of the Egyptian government and I am on the Board of Egypt’s second largest automotive group.’
‘I need time to think this through, Mr Sharif. Even though Cantara is a woman of great talent, it’s a huge responsibility for someone so young.’
‘I understand your reticence, Sam. But I fear you are underestimating the capability of my daughter. Beneath her rebellious façade lies a razor-sharp brain and gritty determination.’
‘I have no doubt whatsoever. I’m due to meet the chief executive officer of the Munich Motor Corporation in Germany next week. You will have my answer after that meeting.’
Sam gazed to his left and noticed the same intensity in Cantara’s eyes that he had seen in those of her sister Rania half an hour before. It’s going to be an interesting meeting in Germany, he thought to himself.
CHAPTER 12
‘Frau Sharif, Herr Jardine and Herr Jenkins, thank you for coming all this way to Munich. It’s an honour to meet you. Please take a seat.’ The German industrialist, Doktor Van der Schaft commanded the respect of the entire motor manufacturing world. His company had been voted the most reputable company in the word for the third year running. ‘Indeed, an honour,’ he repeated. ‘I took the liberty of making you a Turkish coffee, Miss Sharif. I hope it is to your liking?’ he said as he handed a delicate bone china cup to Cantara. Tall and thin with bird-like features, Van der Schaft would have been a handsome man in his prime, but he had lost most of his hair and endless hours in the office had left him with bags under his eyes and his face creased with worry lines. A pair of thin, rimless spectacles sat on the end of his aquiline nose.
‘It looks perfect,’ replied Cantara as she took the cup. Sam noticed with annoyance that Van der Schaft had etched a flawless love heart into the froth of Cantara’s coffee. The debonair German was well used to charming the ladies; his grey eyes almost undressing Cantara. Van der Schaft tore his gaze from her legs and handed Jenkins a cappuccino.
‘And finally, Herr Jardine, flown over from the tea markets of Odessa this morning we have a delicious blend of Russian Caravan tea.’ The doctor passed Sam a cup of the strong, dark tea.
‘Thank you for your trouble, Doktor Van der Schaft. I also wanted to express my gratitude for the excellent clay model you produced for us last month. It has caused a stir in Egypt.’
‘The Sirius caused a stir here in Munich too.’ Van der Schaft perched on the edge of his desk, his well-manicured hands moved in the air as if he were trying to draw the car in the air. ‘It was easy to produce an object of such exquisite beauty when the design was so…’ he searched for the word, ‘breathtaking. My congratulations go to you, Herr Jenkins, for designing such a masterpiece.’
‘Thank you, Doktor Van der Schaft,’ said Jenkins, his chest puffed out with pride. ‘And I must say, I am something of an admirer of Munich Motor Corporation’s executive range. Especially its SUVs.’
‘Is that true? Then we must ship the latest model to Luxor for you to trial. We would be fascinated to have your expert opinion—’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Sam interrupted quickly. ‘Mr Jenkins already has use of a company Land Rover.’
Van der Schaft laughed once more. ‘Please forgive me, Herr Jardine, I was not suggesting anything untoward. Sometimes my poor command of English lets me down. But I must come clean. Daingerfield Oil are going to need the expertise and resources of an international motor manufacturer if you wish to turn your exquisite concept vehicle into a road-going vehicle. The entire Munich design and production facilities are at your disposal.’
‘We can’t thank you enough, Doktor. That would be a dream come true,’ said Jenkins.
‘That is most kind, Doktor Van der Schaft, but we cannot accept your offer,’ Sam contradicted.
Jenkins glared at Sam.
‘Of course, we are prepared to give you whatever reassurances you need of our best intentions,’ replied Van der Schaft.
‘I am assuming in return for your expertise and resources you will be looking to acquire certain rights to the design and technology of the Sirius?’ suggested Sam.
‘That would be of some interest,’ admitted Van der Schaft. ‘Motoring history is littered with heroic failures that need not have happened if the appropriate financial and technical support had been available. The DeLorean springs to mind, and even the much-vaunted Tesla has yet to make a profit. Your solar panel company would be well rewarded for striking a deal with us. We could even discuss a royalty payment for every vehicle sold.’
‘Pardon my scepticism, but by acquiring the rights to the Sirius, the Munich Motor Corporation could dominate the entire market for solar-powered vehicle technology for years.’
Van der Schaft laughed. ‘Come now, Herr Jardine. We are already leaders in
the field. I can assure you my intentions are honourable and to be frank, your project will never leave the design studio without forming an alliance with a company like ours.’
Sam exchanged glances with Cantara. He ached to do the right thing by her, but he suspected the plucky Egyptian was out of her depth. Despite the man’s arrogance, Van der Schaft was right; the project was doomed to failure unless he sold the rights to the Sirius. At least he would have the pleasure of seeing this beautiful vehicle become a reality in a few years’ time.
‘How much are you offering, Doktor Van der Schaft?’
‘I’m afraid it is my turn to seek reassurance. I am intrigued to understand how the design rights to one of the most beautiful and technically advanced vehicles in history fell into the hands of... please excuse my rudeness... a rank amateur?’
‘It was an unfortunate set of circumstances brought about by the death of Sir Roger Harmison. Rex Daingerfield now owns the rights, but he sees the Sirius as a distraction to his main business. He has given me full authorisation to negotiate a deal on his behalf.’
Jenkins nodded. ‘My team of designers and solar engineers are part of the deal. We are determined to see the Sirius through to production. Most of us have invested over twenty years of our lives on this project.’
‘May I glance through your bona fides, Herr Jardine?’
Sam pulled out a wad of legal documents from his inside pocket and tossed them onto the table near the spot where the German was perched. Van der Schaft picked them up and studied them as he walked around his desk. He frowned as he read through the document.
‘I’ll be frank with you, Herr Jardine. My design engineers have told me the Sirius has many ground-breaking features and is indeed a beautiful vehicle. But if you refuse my offer then your project will never see light of day. The development, technology and manufacturing costs are too high for a start-up company to bear – even one that has a giant oil company as a sponsor. I cannot offer you as much as I would like, as the development costs on this vehicle will be astronomical.’
‘There are at least forty other motor vehicle manufacturers who would like to get their hands on the Sirius,’ Sam replied.
Van der Schaft laughed. ‘Come now, Herr Jardine. You came to Munich for a reason. You do not want to see a Hyundai badge on your beautiful car. Neither do you want it to be labelled as – what’s that delightful British phrase? – a lemon. Nevertheless, I am prepared to write you a cheque for the sum of forty million dollars for the exclusive ownership rights to the Sirius.’
Van der Schaft produced a company chequebook from his desk. He scribbled out a cheque with his gold Mont Blanc fountain pen and signed it with a flourish, then tore it from the book and waved it in the air to allow the ink to dry.
Sam’s heart raced at the prospect of securing so large a sum. It was double what he had anticipated and would secure the future of the solar panel factory for the foreseeable future. It would re-establish his reputation as a successful negotiator and redeem his tarnished image with Rex Daingerfield. Jenkins was smiling broadly, no doubt delighted at the chance to relocate his team from a dusty Egyptian factory on the edge of the desert, to a state-of-the-art motor company in Munich. Jenkins reached out to grasp the cheque from Van der Schaft, but Sam laid a hand on his arm. Sam glanced at Cantara and saw her head had dropped as she considered the loss of the Sharif family dream. She was staring at the ground near her feet and her body language was defensive.
Then, she looked up and squared her slender shoulders. ‘You mentioned a share of the royalties, Doktor Van der Schaft?’ Cantara said in a quiet but firm voice.
‘I am man of my word. The royalties will be two per cent of world sales in perpetuity.’
‘And when would we see the first of those royalty payments?’
Van der Schaft waved his hands in the air defensively. ‘How long is a piece of string?’ he replied.
‘We need your commitment in writing and would like the royalties paid in advance based on agreed sales projections. Let’s start with ten thousand units in two years’ time, rising to fifty thousand in three years,’ Cantara responded.
Van der Schaft laughed. ‘I do not wish to sound condescending, Frau Sharif. If you had any experience of the motor industry, you would realise there will be no sales in two years’ time.’
‘Why not?’
‘We cannot start a new production line just like that. We have competing priorities.’
‘What vehicle could possibly take priority over the Sirius? You said yourself it was one of the most beautiful and technically advanced vehicles in history.’
For the first time, Van der Schaft looked flustered. Jenkins stared at the German with suspicion and Cantara fixed Van der Schaft with her piercing honey-coloured eyes.
‘We have invested over a billion dollars in our ultra-lean diesel programme. We cannot abandon that technology to make way for solar power. It all takes time.’
‘So you are worried this vehicle will compete with your existing line up?’
‘These things need to be planned with precision. Timing is everything. You would know that if you had any experience of large-scale manufacturing. Perhaps we should let Herr Jardine complete the formalities…’
Sam drained his Russian Caravan tea and stood up. ‘It has been obvious since the start of this conversation, Doktor Van der Schaft, that your sole interest in acquiring the ownership rights to the Sirius is to kill it off.’
Van der Schaft walked back behind his desk. He tore the cheque in two and tossed it into the waste-paper basket. ‘You may come to regret your rather naïve assertions, Herr Jardine and Frau Sharif. I’ve been talking to my fellow directors from the World Society of Motor Manufacturers and Traders, and we all agree the time is not yet right for a solar vehicle. Don’t waste your time talking to any other companies, as we are all of the same opinion. That cheque for forty million dollars represented the entire motor industry’s first and final offer. Good luck with your endeavours. I believe you are going to need it.’
* * *
Katameya Heights, New Cairo
Sam sat at a large table overflowing with vegetables, rice dishes, soups and meat dishes, as Osman Sharif called for the blessings of Allah to shower his beloved family, his honoured guest, and his fellow countrymen. Sam was determined this time he would resist Yasmin’s entreaties to eat more than he could manage. He had grown fond of the ex-deputy president, his wife and two daughters. One hour earlier, he had presented the first ten solar panels that had been produced by the brand-new Luxor factory to Sharif and his wife Yasmin. It was a symbolic token of gratitude for arranging the first grant from the Egyptian government for his new solar business. He had also presented a large bunch of flowers to Rania and a box of English chocolates to Cantara.
‘Are you sure you know what you would be taking on?’ Sam said, as the Sharif family raised their heads from their prayers and opened their eyes.
‘We are certain,’ replied Sharif. ‘I have secured all the tooling and production equipment from the Suez Motor Company, which closed its doors last month, and I have handpicked their best fifty employees to work on the prototype. The factory will be adjoining your Luxor solar panel plant, so the two companies can continue to work together and share resources.’
Sam felt rising panic as Yasmin built a small mountain of food on his plate and handed it to him. ‘Martin Kincofu has prepared the contract for the Sirius solar-powered vehicle and Rex Daingerfield has already signed over the ownership papers. Cantara need only countersign the sections Martin has indicated.’
‘Thank you, Sam,’ said Cantara. ‘I will look through the documents tonight.’
‘In that case, I must draw your attention to one critical condition you should be aware of before you sign,’ Sam said, taking a mouthful of Nile perch.
‘What condition would that be?’ Her intelligent eyes fixed on Sam.
‘I have re-mortgaged my house in England and sold my remaining shares
in Napier & Beckett to raise one million dollars. I would like to acquire a twenty per cent shareholding of your company and become your chief financial adviser if you will accept me. Regrettably, my finances are such that I must also continue to work for Rex Daingerfield at the same time.’
Cantara’s eyes widened and a broad grin spread across her pretty face. She dropped her knife and fork and turned to embrace Sam. The Sharif family then averted their eyes as Cantara kissed Sam tenderly, but discreetly, on his cheek.
CHAPTER 13
Upernavik Icefjord, North Greenland, May
A spectacular aurora borealis spread across the horizon of the beautiful icebound landscape of Greenland. The dawn sky lit up as vast curtains of multicoloured light danced across the sky in a sea of bright greens, purples and blue colours.
‘Fuckin’ awesome!’ exclaimed Dan Elrod. For a moment, he ignored the ever-present chill that seeped into the marrow of his bones and made his existence in Greenland a permanent misery. He spat a wad of chewing tobacco from his mouth and watched it turn into a solid block of brown ice before it hit the ground. The tall, gangly Texan shivered through his five layers of clothing and contemplated the task ahead. Chuck Crawford, the operations manager of the Upernavik Icefjord experimental fracking well, had driven his men almost beyond the point of endurance to clean up the spill at a time of year when this region was considered uninhabitable. Now he was preparing for the season ahead so the well would be at full production months ahead of schedule. Elrod stood among a tangle of electrical cables, a mountain of steel piping and neat stacks of pumping equipment as he waited for the Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane helicopter to deliver a new derrick from nearby Baffin Island in Canada.
‘Would you stop gawking at the sky and get on with your job?’ snapped Crawford. ‘We’re on for a one hundred and fifty per cent completion bonus if we can pump fifty thousand barrels by October when the season finishes.’
The Last Oracle: A Climate Fiction Thriller (Sam Jardine Crime Thrillers Book 3) Page 9