Virginity Despoiled

by Charles Brett

  Enrique – typical man, thought Lili – did not know whether to celebrate or mouth meaningless if well-intentioned protestations. For herself, Lili experienced both regret and relief. One personal burden lifted did not rescue the business.

  The big question now was whether Enrique would buy into Inma and Ana's plan. She would, while he had been undecided this morning. The possibility of his being able to continue to see Ana might swing the day, if for the wrong reasons. Classic Enrique!

  Friday, AVE from Cordoba to Madrid

  Inma and Ana slept during the ninety-minute car journey from Úbeda to Córdoba. Their driver needed to cough loudly to waken them before turning into the station for the AVE. He'd been tempted to shake Inma's leg to get her attention but decided this was too dangerous.

  With fifteen minutes to wait for their train, Inma and Ana freshened up in the Preferente lounge where decent facilities were available. They emerged more cheerful and impatient for Madrid and home. They made idle chat on the platform, having passed the security check, until the train drew in. After taking their seats on board, Inma suggested heading to the bar. They were soon in their seats again as the bar was full of tipsy businessmen returning from Malaga, Antequera or Córdoba. Still dressed up for Enrique and Lili's lunch, they recognised the possibility of boorish trouble occurring.

  The good news was the arrival of a waiter proffering drinks and something to eat. He placed a menu of light refreshments in front of them. Ana kept quiet except to order. What would Inma raise? Ana never knew in advance. Inma placed her menu aside.

  "Enrique's taken a fancy to you."

  "Yes?"

  Ana sought neutrality, and discouragement.

  "You like him?"

  "Yes, but not how you're implying. Don't forget about Lili."

  "You're attracting attention, Ana. Toomas? Enrique? Not to mention the unforgettable Davide."

  "Or Reelika," retorted Ana.

  Inma relented at Ana's unquiet pose.

  "You did well today. Enrique commented on how you handled yourself at his table. 'Masterful' was how he put it. In consequence, I think we've all the pieces to move forward. Do you agree?"

  Ana was relieved, not caring if Inma noticed. Inma had refocused on work. She did not want to talk about Enrique or Toomas and least of all Davide.

  "On Monday, will you contact all the producers who came today, plus send the package to the two or three who didn't make it? Be blunt to those who were present. Ask when they'll return the authorisation papers. Go for the implicit close."

  "Isn't this a bit too soon?"

  "They'll have had the weekend. In all probability most have already decided. No, Monday is the day to start but agree another time to talk if they're not accepting. The one person not to press is Soledad who sat at my table. Despite her gracious words with coffee I doubt she wants to come round."

  "Okay. And then?"

  "You should contact with Toomas and Reelika about another visit to Tallinn, this time to finalise their side of the deals. Then we can start selling the broader package. For that we'll need to go to London and Basel, so it may, depending on when you arrange to go, be best to book one-way tickets so you can change itinerary if we need to join up in either."

  Ana was unhappy about this. Was she to bounce from Enrique – whom she liked more after today than she intended admitting to Inma – to Toomas? Perhaps she should go back to her previous American employer, assuming he was still in business. There at least her life was dull, though that was also where she'd met Davide.

  The train swayed on at 300 kph according to the readout by the door. Still another hour of Inma remained before they could separate for the weekend. With some trepidation Ana asked Inma what she had made of the day.

  "Have you something particular in mind?" responded Inma.

  "Yes, I'm glad I'm not an olive producer, especially not a premium Extra Virgin Olive Oil producer. Damn! I'm going to adopt Lili's EVOO. It's simpler. Once the questions died down at lunch I was shocked by their tales of olive oil abuse. Not by these people but by others in the industry."

  "You'd read about this?"

  "Yes, but it was abstract, remote. Listening brought home what it costs them. Enrique and Lili produce EVOO. They also produce VOO and even what might be called POO – plain olive oil, in case you haven't worked it out. It's what the Italians call Lampante, suitable for burning in lamps and inedible."

  "So?"

  "All of them sell their VOO and POO to third parties. Nearly all agree this brings in their most consistent income. None, not even Lili and Enrique, think beyond what happens after the trucks arrive to take away the residue from making EVOO or VOO. Yes, some complained about Italians. Others complained about notable large Spanish oil producers selling to supermarkets. They accuse both of deodorising and processing bulk olive oil before re-adding a little real EVOO and bottling the abominable result as EVOO. I can't help thinking they're seeding the very gravy train they complain about."

  "If you think that, Ana, are you questioning whether we should be arranging the insurance and re-insurance participation? Also, aren't there bulk producers who concentrate solely on VOO or POO? Isn't this a case of 'if you can't beat them, join them'?"

  "Good point."

  "To be fair, if we were talking only to bulk producers I wouldn't be interested. In contrast, the people today are purists, the best producers. That's why I think we can make money. Their livelihood is EVOO. It's their EVOO crops we're primarily working with. All right there is some VOO coverage but in financial risk terms it is not in the same league. No, I think we're in a sound position, so long as your Estonians deliver."

  Ana did not much care for how Inma placed ownership of Toomas and Reelika, and their fellow funds, with her. Her stomach sank even as the AVE drew into the Atocha Station.

  Ana caught a taxi home. This made sense given she was not suitably dressed for the Metro. In contrast, Inma was comfortable enough to walk. She wanted the fresh air, if you could call Madrid air fresh when the pollution index could climb to levels more like London, though not Delhi or Beijing.

  Inma needed the weekend to think. Ana had touched on a significant point on the train. In addition, something about the Lili and Enrique set-up demanded clarification. She thought back. They were a handsome pairing. Enrique was conventional whereas Lili was like a brilliant bird. There was so little physical substance to her dynamo. In her expensive silk work suit she impressed. But she was aloof, unlike Inma and Ana.

  Inma doubted Lili would ever, or had ever, dressed to be feminine. Was this a North American trait? She'd seen it in New Yorkers rushing to work in beautiful clothes with sneakers for the street and high heels for the office. Incongruous.

  Inma snorted. She didn't know whether Canadians were the same. It was improbable she would ever find out. In fact it really wasn't any of her business.

  Chapter Seven

  Three months later

  Monday: Murcia

  Andrei was no longer nonchalant about his bugs. He had gone from laidback to hyper-nervous. Today he'd returned to nervousness. The initial research for the fungi and pests afflicting olives and olive trees was straightforward. Selecting Bactrocera oleae was easy. Mastering the reproductive cycle of Bactrocera oleae to tune it to Oleg's money-making timetable was far harder than anticipated.

  On their previous visit to Benidorm he'd been sure he'd mastered it. Unfortunately, the bugs refused to cooperate by procreating in the quantities Oleg demanded. The consequence was his current isolation in Murcia, identifying the problem and testing to see if he had cracked the problem.

  He'd chosen Murcia because it was warmer than Callosa. The warmth meant he could force multiple seasons. The large building on the flat, arid Murcian plain heading down to the sea made best use of the sun pouring through the skylights. In that it was similar to Callosa, though warmer. Three times now the cycle had worked and the flies had reproduced to his order.

  He was grateful Oleg had und
erstood the potential difficulties. While Andrei had thought three years too long to wait, Oleg had preferred patience. In effect Oleg had bought Andrei time, though he never let up the pressure.

  He pulled out his phone to report the third test cycle results, similar to the previous two. If Oleg agreed, he was now ready to start accumulating the olives needed for mass propagation.

  Oleg sounded relieved. Regrettably his congratulations consisted of mild approval delivered as faint damnation. That was Oleg. Plus he insisted Andrei return to Tallinn to polish the final execution details.

  Andrei grunted. He'd been trying to visit Helga and Freja in Oslo to continue their frolics. At first they were keen. After his second postponement they'd written him off as a waste of space. Such treatment offended him but he couldn't blame them. Perhaps he might connect through Oslo on his way to Tallinn?

  No, he would not risk the shame of rejection. Instead, tonight he would head into the city of Murcia and frequent a recommended puti club where he'd heard the girls came from Eastern Europe. He hoped not Russia. But a blonde Russian-speaking Bulgarian might sate his needs. He parked the possibility.

  One more task needing refinement before he left for Tallinn, namely the 'dispenser', as he'd nicknamed it. This was mounted within a typical, banged-up, middle-sized truck like those found on any Spanish agricultural road. With high sides and at least a fifteen-ton capacity it could hide a secret. In his case this was a pair of much-adapted machines converted from serving up tennis balls.

  As Andrei had always insisted to Oleg, distributing the agent was the key to success. His solution came in two parts. First, perfecting the breeding of Bactrocera oleae, which was now done. Second, moving the incipient bugs to the locations among olive groves where they could breed and do their damage.

  The two trucks – one for him, one for Oleg – each contained a pair of dispensers and a magazine capable of holding tons of the olives that he was about to infest with Bactrocera oleae. The magazine fed the throwers. After the driver flicked a switch in the cab each dispenser hurled small clutches of the infected olives perpendicular to the direction of the truck. The olives would disperse some three to fifteen metres from the road along the edges of the olive groves. When the bugs matured, Bactrocera oleae would emerge to seek new olives and, infecting these, initiate anew the breeding cycle.

  The ingenious part, as Oleg had worked out, was that they did not require 100 or even 50 per cent damage. If a harvest of eating olives were found to contain any infected olives, nothing could be used from that consignment. For premium olive oil, if they had more than 10 per cent of olives affected, none could be used. Just 10 per cent infected could produce economic.

  Where Oleg planned to start the distribution was known only to him. Andrei assumed it would be in Spain. But it was quite feasible that Oleg was being over-clever, and Italian or even Greek groves would be the target. If so, that would cause problems. Andrei would have to acquire local replacement trucks and fit them up before proving his 'dispensers' and magazines all over again. Or they could keep the existing trucks, drive them to where Oleg indicated and replace the Spanish number plates with stolen local ones for the short time they were seeding devastation.

  Andrei hoped it would be Spain. The more he thought about Italy or Greece the more he realised he did not know about local conditions there. They might be different.

  "Please, Oleg; don't be too clever," he murmured to himself.

  He climbed up into the cab of the first truck. The switch that activated the pair of 'dispensers' was still not working as desired. He was almost there. He wanted to report being ready to roll, with all of his contributions complete, when he was back in Estonia. Oleg was a hard taskmaster.

  Tuesday: Madrid

  Inma rose from her desk. Her stiff back begged for a good stretch-out. Although the space in her office was limited she kept a mat and exercise ball for such occasions. She began with the basics. If these did not do what was necessary, for she was tauter than a lift cable, she would retreat to her piso, some six levels above, where she had dedicated workout space.

  The past three months had been feverish. Besides keeping her existing clients happy she and Ana – especially Ana, in retrospect – had run their tails off pulling together the Premium Olive Producers Insurance Cooperative, or POPIC as Lili – with her North American passion for acronyms – had shortened it.

  With that in place, and all but the predictable Soledad signed up, she'd expected the establishment of the various insurance policies to be straightforward. They were not. It had been her own fault. The idea of the POPIC members buying insurance and receiving back income for underwriting a slice of the re-insurance was too alien to the market.

  Thanks to much travelling by Ana, who had done a brilliant job in convincing and leveraging the Estonian investment funds, all was now in place. The olive oil producers possessed improved primary cover. The insurance companies writing this primary cover had purchased comforting levels of re-insurance for their primary risks, which facilitated competitive primary pricing, also delivering income back to the Estonian investment funds and those POPIC members who had chosen to participate.

  From what Inma could tell, and she cautioned herself, her idea of the insured taking clearly delineated slices of the reinsurance pie was drawing interest. Her argument – that it made the insured doubly careful about preventing circumstances which would cause a claim – was now attracting the sceptical. Of course this approach was only credible when the insured controlled their environment. In the POPIC instance, the olive producers' intimate involvement in the whole process, from growing olives through to final olive oil production, was obvious.

  The single resistance point she'd been unable to overcome was developing the primary insurance cover downstream, to cover olive oil marketing and sales activities. This was a step too far this year. Perhaps next year would be better. Anyway, the seed was sown. With luck the rewards could trickle through in later years.

  That was what she liked about the re-insurance business. It involved developing and sustaining long-term relationships. Once a first deal was done it tended to persist over several years, unless some claim event occurred to effect termination. She and Ana stood to make decent profits from all they had put together this year. Next year would be better again, because the set-up costs and most of the effort were complete. Over five years, assuming no disaster produced outlandish claims, they would become wealthy.

  Inma liked the vibes of this. It was not that she needed the money, though Ana did if she was not to rely on any family inheritance, or even on the intestate one where she or her mother might have an entitlement. The POPIC model might yet prove to be the mechanism to provide Ana with immunity from needing to decide whether to make that inheritance claim. This polished Inma's sense of virtuosity.

  She kicked herself. Now was not the time for expectant self-congratulation, a side of her that she disliked but recognised had a habit of appearing when least appropriate. Of course, providing Ana with a good enough income to remove any need to pursue the inheritance claim didn't solve the Davide problem. She frowned. Thus far she'd hidden from Ana that she had an ongoing connection to Davide.

  She knew where he was and what he was doing. Ana still did not know unless Davide had confided in her. Davide had even helped with some risk-modelling aspects for POPIC, which Inma hadn't revealed to Ana. The business arrangement she'd set up with him before he left Spain functioned just as she'd anticipated those many months ago.

  It was a pity about Ana. But, apart from the odd occasion when it affected her ability to be productive, Davide and Ana as a combination were none of Inma's business. Or so she told herself. Ana's indecision, torn between Toomas and Enrique, was comical.

  On the other hand, the latter posed dangers if either became serious. No, Inma amended. So far as she could see both Enrique and Toomas were ever more enthusiastic in competing for Ana, albeit without knowing it. Meanwhile, Ana displayed few signs of a p
reference or urgency about making a choice.

  The irony was great. Months back, after the Amazon dinner and tio Toño's unfortunate and now inaccurate revelation, Ana had weepily told Inma of what she'd confessed to Davide. She was in her mid-thirties, 'on the shelf', with no prospects and parents who had given up on her ever making a suitable (for them, not her) match.

  Davide had reassured and recommended her to Inma. That Ana had done the same for Davide to Inma made the situation funnier and sadder. Now Ana had one local suitor in Enrique, one foreign one in Toomas, and an absent mixed Spanish/English one she pined for most, in Davide. She should be revelling in the possibilities. Afflicted was more accurate.

  "It never rains but it pours," Ana had once commented in bleak tones to Inma.

  Inma did have, however, one gift in her possession. Not gift, for she merited it. After all Ana's hard work, Inma intended to promote her to become a partner in the firm. She would rename it Arenas Delarosa Consultores de Aseguros; or ADCA as Lili would inevitably christen it. She should do this soon, having already mentioned it to La Abuela and she had received unequivocal support.

  That was another curiosity. Six months ago La Abuela and she were arch opposites, refusing to talk, almost enemies. Now they were confidantes in the way Ana predicted. While La Abuela was not wired into modernity, her waspish knowledge of her social circle and its consequences was entertaining, full of insights and motivations, many being usable in the business.

  Inma had always thought of La Abuela as a staid product of her own generation and a prude to boot. Not a bit of it. La Abuela was more tolerant of Inma's proclivities than Ana's parents and many others in their wider family. Inma had tried to explore La Abuela's past but had been rebuffed. Her suspicion was that La Abuela had lived it up in her youth but wouldn't admit it, never mind illustrate it.