by Alan Wade
Shan smiled at him, refilled his glass and said, “All their horses must be fancied, they spend a fortune on their yearlings and I hear they have a two year old running today which is being groomed for next year’s Derby. It’s called Persian Post, it should win but you never know do you. So don’t put too much money on it, we don’t want your backers seeing you squandering their money gambling, do we?”
“It’s not their money just yet.”
”No, but it will be soon.”
“That’s true,” he replied, “because I will need a substantial advance to be available for when we meet at the White House, I need to purchase import/export companies quite soon. We’ll go through the details in London, I’ll see you then. Goodbye my friend.”
Alan walked to a telephone inside the bar and called David Bentley to agree the go-ahead for the design of the company products and to confirm a first print run of some 10,000 outers. He then agreed to deposit cash with the design company who confirmed the outers could be available within six to eight weeks. Two small bets later, both of which lost and then a good gamble on Persian Post a winner at seven to two made his day.
“Bloody marvellous,” he thought, “on the day when you get millions made available to you, you also win hundreds on the gee gees, very different from past experiences eh? But now the champagne bar beckons; let’s go get a table, try a good bottle and study the other kind of fillies available, It just may be your lucky day,” he mused.
June 5th, The Ivy Hotel, York.
The radio burst into life and Terry Wogan introduced his show to the millions of listening TOGs. Alan rolled over onto his back, rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, “God, I must be getting old; I’m listening to bloody Terry Wogan and enjoying it, both the banter and the music. I wonder if Fran Godfrey looks as sexy as she speaks, I must be one of the only blokes left who doesn’t know what she looks like,” he thought.
Alan got out of bed continuing his self analysis, “head’s not bad, legs and arms seem to work.” He checked for his money and wallet and confirmed they were still there. “Yes yesterday was a good day, backed 2 winners, drank enough, maybe too much,” he argued with himself, “You really should begin to cut back because it’s not like it was when you were in your twenties. Oh shut up and get going, go through the basics, shit, shave, shower, shampoo hair. You missed the exercises last night, must keep up the routine. Look at you, you really are getting old,” he muttered to himself. He left the bathroom, dressed average casual and went down for breakfast.
He picked a table in the corner away from windows and doors and ate 2 poached eggs on white toast, with no butter; all washed down with black tea; no sugar. He bade the waitress farewell and said he would see Tony that evening knowing today would be a busy day. He left the Ivy Hotel, turned left and headed for the walled city. York is a beautiful place which still retains much of the outer castellated walls of the old town, a tourist’s paradise full of real history alongside dozens of pubs, restaurants, businesses and the inevitable trinket shops.
His first task was an easy one, to purchase a mobile phone for cash and the largest available pay as you go credit, again for cash. Shopkeepers could still believe that you won a couple of hundred on the horses and wanted to buy something with it rather than give it back to the bookies.
The second purchase was a little more complicated but the deal was done and by 11.00, Alan Walsh found himself the owner, for five weeks, of a small office in a serviced block which specialised in giving small businesses a credible address and support services. Again, he asked if he could pay cash on a weekly basis. This was agreed and he was shown into an office ten feet by fifteen feet, complete with Ikea desk, chairs, filing cabinets, telephone, fax and email access and the services of staff who would do for you all the tasks required of the modern entrepreneur.
There were now 150 companies in the UK who were ideal outlets for his purposes and over the next few days each would be contacted with a simple offer. These companies now imported their products from either, Germany, the Middle East or China and either bought them as complete usable products or assembled them in the UK from imported parts. He would offer each company the chance to buy the equivalent products from a firm in Turkey and he would inform them that because Turkey was now working towards joining the European Union it was actively seeking contracts in the UK. Therefore it was prepared to offer a 25% discount for any equivalent product purchased from LOLTS the new Turkish company. The contracts and the prices would be fixed for 3 years and a portfolio of the product range would be available within a few weeks; supported by sample products available within a few months. He picked up his recently acquired mobile phone and began the process.
Pickering North Yorkshire
A young lady left her office and crossed the concrete pathways to a large wooden hut, she opened the door and winced as she caught the ever lingering smell when first entering one of the many sheds that used to house feed on the old twenty acre pig farm.
“Mr Stubbs, Mr Stubbs,” she called, “there’s a telephone call for you. I’ve brought the portable or do you want to take it in your office?”
“Who is it Jean?”
“Some man who says he can save you a fortune on product imports.”
“Another bloody salesman, tell him I’m busy.”
Jean spoke into the portable phone, smiled and leaned across to Keith Stubbs. “He’s really most insistent Mr Stubbs and says that he really can save companies up to 25% of their import costs.”
Keith Stubbs stopped what he was doing and walked towards Jean, “Give me the phone here.”
“Hello, Keith Stubbs speaking, I hear you can save me some money. Well, it had better be a good story.”
“Yes, hello Mr Stubbs. My name is Alan Walsh and I work for a Turkish company called LOLTS as their representative in the UK. They want to break into the lucrative UK market and have asked me to select 10 of the medium sized companies in the industry to see if they are prepared to test the LOLTS products. If you are prepared to test them they will guarantee to substantially beat any price you now pay for imports from China or Germany.” He paused got no response so continued, “As you may know, Turkey is endeavouring to join the European Union and this is a bona fide company supported by the Turkish government. It has all the current export licenses and EU regulatory documentation and finally, because of their Government subsidies we can usually offer similar products at up to 25% less than even the Chinese.”
Keith Stubbs shrugged his shoulders, smiled and responded, “Sounds plausible I suppose. But what if you can’t deliver the quantities we want. This is a very seasonal product you know.”
“Yes, we know that and you will need large quantities all too soon,” continued Alan, “we have already analysed the UK market and the consumer demand and we estimate that demand to be up to 20,000 tonnes with up to 75% of it being seasonal. However, we will be able to meet any demand placed on us.”
“OK, you’ve got me interested but I’m not parting with any money or changing any supply route until I see some real product.”
“We don’t want you to do any thing yet, all we ask is that you fax us your required product range and quantity which we have already estimated to be 200 to 250 tonnes.”
“You’ve done your homework well.”
“We think so, all we ask is that you send us the fax, we will then send you our portfolio and samples. If you agree to use us we will also export your chosen products and ask for no payment until you are totally satisfied with the full delivery. Of course we will then want payment in Euros within 60 days of delivery and obviously require banking assurance that you can cover the invoices. We estimate we can save you up to 25% of your import costs which will go straight to your bottom line profit. As we know that profit in this industry is approximately 25% of turnover, this could make a substantial impact to your bottom line.”
“OK you�
�ve got me interested. You said you’d selected 10 companies. Can you tell me who they are?”
“I’d prefer not to do that at this time because we don’t know who will take up the offer do we?”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t want to be swamped by the three big players.”
“I assure you we won’t be contacting any of the top three because we need to get a foothold first and they also will have negotiated keen prices with their Chinese & German suppliers.”
Keith moved position, cupped the telephone handset into his left shoulder and reached for a pen and paper. “Might work I suppose, it’s worth a try. Give me your fax number and I’ll send you our requirements. Although I’m still a little concerned that you may disappear after a year or so and I’ll be left without a supplier.”
“On the contrary, Turkey wants to build all businesses in the EU and we will guarantee price and product delivery for the next 3 years, if you decide to go ahead.”
“OK, OK, give me your fax number and I’ll send you details of some of our requirements, then you can tell me what you can do.”
“Thanks Mr Stubbs. The fax number is 01904 782221. Please send me them as soon as possible and if you want I’ll come out to Pickering and show you our portfolio of products.”
“I don’t need to see you just yet, just send me a comparable quote.”
Alan smiled; he didn’t want to see anyone if at all possible, the less his visual presence the better.
“What I will do is send you a quote and the portfolio by post, then we can send you samples by secure delivery. You decide then if you want to see me and maybe we can discuss things over a pint. I’m quite local.”
“Yes, I see it’s a York number.”
“Yes, not far away at all but if you don’t want to see me perhaps you can see us in Frankfurt at the annual product show.”
“I don’t have the time or the money to swan off to Frankfurt. We’re only a small company you know. I still need to be here to get the job done.”
Alan smiled to himself; again he had guessed right that only the big three or four players would attend an international trade fair.
“Yes, I understand, thanks for talking with me, I look forward to receiving your fax and I will be in touch by mail very soon. Is there anything else I can do for you now?”
“No, I’ll send the fax. Bye Mr Walsh.”
Keith replaced the receiver and mused to himself, “It might work, I can’t see the scam in this.”
He decided to send the fax but as a precaution would only put down product requests for 50% of his needs and see what came of it.
Jean was called into the office, the products were selected along with quantities and a fax was sent within one hour of the original call.
Alan pressed the end call key and made notes of the conversation. He sat back in his chair and reflected on the call. If they were all like this he could probably do 30 to 40 per day. Damned hard work actually but he may end up with 20 to 30 companies at least prepared to try his product range. The whole affair would take time but each of these companies would have the capability to import exactly what he wanted. He walked into the general reception area and smiled at the young woman behind the reception desk.
“I will be receiving quite a few faxes over the next 5 days, how do I go about getting them?”
“That’s easy Mr Walsh, when we receive them we allocate them to your mail box. Your box is there on the left; the box number is compatible with your office suite number and if you want to reply to any of the faxes just give me the details.”
“Thanks love, now, where do you get a coffee around here?”
“There’s a machine over there, or you can get one just down the road, but most people bring their own and use the kitchen. I can get one for you this time though if you wish.”
“No thanks, I’ll take a walk, the fresh air will do me good.”
He locked his office and strolled from the block down into town.
He made twenty more calls that day and he considered progress was good but slow. He also made a call to Dave Bentley the design printer and agreement was made that they would meet in two days to discuss ideas and prices with regard to a way ahead.
“A pint of Sam’s please Tony,” Alan looked around the bar at the Ivy, it was empty apart from a couple in the corner looking at street plans of York and trying to decide where to eat that night. Tony finished polishing a glass and placed it on a shelf, “How are you today, still living in the past?”
“I’m lonely and I’m sad, bloody sad and it makes me angry to know that nobody but you wants to hear all my crap, but thanks for asking. How are you?”
“I’m different, very different from you, I came out of it OK, I got my pension and all the bits still work and now I’ve got this place. I’m actually happy.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky and I’m not living in the past, but I’ll talk about it if you want.”
Alan shook his head and replied, “talking won’t change it will it, it happened, shit happens and I got shat on.”
“Yeah, and from a great height eh;” he paused and looked into Alan’s face then changing the subject asked, “do you see any of the others now?”
“There’s nobody to see, there’s no bugger left that matters.” He finished his pint and offered it to Tony who without asking refilled the glass. Alan watched then took the frothy pint and said, “Now let’s change the subject, thanks for asking, but it still screws me up. What do you say we go out for a few beers and see York at its worst on a race day?”
“I’ve a hotel to run, I can’t just walk out.”
“You’ve got staff, use them.”
“I don’t know if I want to be out with you in a mood!”
“A mood; I’m not in a mood; I’ve won at the races and I’ve worked hard today.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I’m OK. You asked about me and I told you; the past won’t go away, I lost my family and like you I lost a lot of mates which makes me bitter sometimes but I’m OK.”
“OK, we’ll do Micklegate and then come back but no nightclubs, I’ve got to do breakfast in the morning.”
“That’s a deal, I’ve got at least 30 calls to make tomorrow and I wouldn’t want to linger in Micklegate late at night, would I?” “Micklegate’s OK, it’s just Yorkies drinking in the pubs there,” Tony then changed the subject and asked, “what is it you do now?”
“I work for this furniture import company, trying to get their products into the UK, very boring really but it pays,” he finished his pint placed his glass on the bar and turned to go explaining, “I’m going for a bath now, what time can we go out?”
“About eight, do you want something to eat before we go?”
“No, I’ll have something as we walk about, fish and chips in the paper seems good, see you at eight and bring your wallet.”
“I’ll pay my round you sod.”
“Yeah, I know you will, see you at eight my friend.”
“Er Alan …. Just before you go, how long do you expect to stay?”
“At least another week and I’ll be happy to pay the going rate.”
“Not on your life my friend, this one’s on me.”
“Thanks, see you tonight.”
Alan lazed and soaked in the hot bath. “Not a bad hotel” he thought and a quiet room at the back. But perhaps he should not have stayed with a friend, perhaps his dealings in York could be linked and exposed through Tony. Perhaps Tony needed to know the part being played. “Oh no he doesn’t, the less he knows the better,” he argued with himself, then thought, “we’ll go for drinks in York, start with the Crystal Palace, then the Trafalgar Bay just outside the walls, then down into Micklegate. I won’t talk about business at all, just talk about ol
d times, drink and then say I’m going racing again. If any trace is made to York and Tony he won’t know anything other than an old friend came to stay and went racing.”
It took 6 more working days to contact the remaining 120 plus companies who might be interested in importing his products from Turkey and he believed that at least 80 of them may take up the offer. However all 150 companies were prepared to receive the portfolio of products which had now been ordered from David Bentley’s design and print company along with all the product outers. The portfolios would be delivered to the office suite in York and the batches of outers would be delivered to an export company in Kent who would ship them out to Turkey. All had been prepaid and would be collected by a LOLTS representative in Turkey.
Alan informed Teresa he would keep the serviced office address as a post box for communications until the portfolios were ready and he would then return to York to rent his office suite again in order to receive and mail out the 150 portfolios. However, he had now been called to Turkey to discuss his progress so far with UK operations. That was the plausible story told to Theresa, the manageress in charge of the serviced office block and cash was paid for the maintenance of the post box and future use of the office suite.
The story to Tony was simpler. He was going home for a rest from the boozing and racing but would return soon for some unfinished business in York and a room had been gladly offered and accepted by both parties. One last Sam Smith’s pint had been quaffed before he thanked his friend as hands were shaken, backs were slapped and the two briefly hugged.
“Bloody hell Tony, I’ll be back in a few weeks or so. Get off.”
“See you then my friend,” he responded as he released his grip.
Chapter 3
June 18th, The White House, London.
Alan Johnson sat in a corner where he could observe the comings and goings of the staff and customers, opposite him sat Shan again drinking orange juice. Alan broke the silence, “We need to buy a factory, already in production and close to the Middle East, I think Turkey is the place.”