by Roxi Harms
Turton and a couple of local men from Lima were in the suite, halfway through their first scotch.
"This is Father Juan and Diego Madina. They live nearby. Diego owns the mine site that we're here to look at," Turton said by way of introduction. Walking over to the bar, he pulled out three more glasses and filled them with ice and scotch as he continued. "My geologist left for the mine site yesterday. He should have arrived there today. We're just waiting for a call to hear how he's making out." He handed each of them a glass. "Sit down. I hear you two saw a lot of places on your way down."
The scotch flowed freely and time passed quickly as the six of them swapped stories about where they'd been in the world and adventures they'd had along the way.
"So we drove Adam's beautiful brand new dark blue Mercedes right out of the factory," David said to the group. He was telling them about the trip he and Adam had taken to Europe a few years earlier. "I didn't know this, but if you buy from the factory in Germany and drive the car around for a while you can ship it to Canada as a used car which is a lot cheaper than new, plus you don't pay for a rental car for your holiday."
"That's right," said Adam. "It's a hell of a good deal. I'm planning to do it every couple of years from now on."
"Anyway, I wanted to see France," continued David, "but Adam hates the French."
"Bastards poured boiling water down on us from the third-floor windows, threw rocks at us, you name it, when they were marching us through there as prisoners at the end of the war," Adam explained.
"I convinced him, and we went to the border and the French border guard looks at the papers for the car and our passports and he says a bunch of stuff in French and points to the office where we're supposed to pull over. What does Adam do? He just drives through. Totally ignores the guy! Just drives into France without stopping."
"The guy just stood there looking confused. He didn't do anything about it at all," laughed Adam.
David jumped in again. "So then we drive around a bit and we need some fuel, so we pull up to a gas pump. One of those old pumps that you pump by hand, you know? And these two little old French ladies pump our gas and then say the price in French. And Adam hands them his German money. They didn't want it, but he just keeps holding these Marks out to them. Finally, they got so mad, they chased us out of the gas station."
"Without paying for the gas?" Turton asked.
"That's right," said Adam with a grin. "Got a free tank of gas from the French that day."
Conversation stopped suddenly when the door swung open. A man wearing a turban stood in the doorway, scowling at them.
"Singh," said Turton, "come in. We were expecting a call from the radio phone to confirm you'd made it to the mine."
"There was no call because the mine site is impossible to reach. The conditions are unbelievable. No passable roads, just rocks and llamas everywhere. No matter, altitude sickness would prevent anyone from working up there. There will be no report. There's nothing to write about. Certainly nothing I can recommend to investors. Excuse me, I must lie down."
With that, Singh strode across the suite into one of the bedrooms, and pulled the door shut firmly behind him.
The men sat there looking at each other in silence for a few moments. Turton picked up the bottle of scotch from the coffee table and divided the last of it between their glasses.
"Well, that's unfortunate," said Diego after taking a sip. "Now what are we going to do?"
No one responded immediately. Then David spoke. "Hell, if there's anybody who could get up there and have a look at that property, it would be this guy right here." He pointed to Adam. "He's already told you about his mining experience. He's your man."
Diego looked at Adam. "Would you go?" he asked tentatively.
Would he fly to the middle of Peru into the high Andes and travel to a remote mine site to look around and give his opinion?
"Sure, I'll help you out if I can."
"Problem solved," laughed Turton, opening a fresh bottle of scotch.
Turton's immediate problem might have been solved, but no one in the room that night anticipated the chain of much bigger problems that would unfold as a result.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE
Twelve hours later, Adam was back at the Lima airport, boarding a flight to Cusco. His head hurt a bit from the scotch, but after a bite to eat he felt better.
Everyone had warned him about altitude sickness. Cusco itself was 11,000 feet and Diego said they would be climbing a couple more thousand feet to get to the mine.
"My caretaker, Juvenal, will pick you up. He'll have coca leaves for you," Diego had said as he dropped Adam at the airport. Coca leaves were believed to help with altitude sickness. "Chew them up and then make a ball and hold it in the corner of your mouth. And the hotel will have a pot of coca tea in the lobby. They all do. Drink some of that too."
After a night in Cusco, Adam and Juvenal set out for the mine. Juvenal's little pick-up truck rattled over the rough road as they navigated the hairpin turns that took them steadily higher, winding back and forth up a narrow switchback road full of potholes. Abancay was the name of the first town they passed through, then Cotaruse, and then onto Antabamba. Juvenal's English was good, and as they drove, he told Adam a bit about the mine. It was belt driven with a couple of flotation cells. They had a little crusher and a little ball mill, all run by a General Motors truck motor.
They bounced and jostled along the uneven road, through the dips and craters, climbing higher and higher. The trees thinned out and disappeared. Not much could grow at this elevation. For a split second, a memory of sitting on the porch steps in Elek, imagining he could see the Carpathian Mountains in the distance flashed through Adam's mind.
A few minutes later the road petered out completely. They stopped beside a little stone hut. A dark-skinned woman dressed in heavy skirts and a tall brown hat sat on a rock on the leeside of the hut, pounding something in a large bowl on the ground in front of her. Her raven black hair hung in two thick braids down her back. Two little kids sat in the dirt nearby, playing. The woman looked up as they approached, then continued with her pounding. The barren mountainside above them was steep, with rocky outcrops. Below them, llamas grazed peacefully in meadows dotted with bare patches. A few of the nearest llamas lifted their heads and stared at the men as they got out of the pickup truck.
"Hola! Buenas!" Juvenal called out. The door of the hut opened and a stooped little man appeared, greeting Juvenal and Adam with a smile and a wave. His dark skin was weathered but his eyes were bright and friendly. "He speaks the indigenous language called Quechua, and the odd word of Spanish he's picked up over the years," Juvenal explained. "Dos caballos por favor y una llama," he said to the little man in Spanish, pointing to a small enclosure of horses behind the hut and holding up two fingers. Then he pointed down to the llamas and made a sign for one. The little man nodded obligingly and walked around the hut.
Ten minutes later they'd left the hut and the pickup truck behind. The horses picked their way skillfully along the rocky trail that hugged the mountainside. The llama, laden with their bags and some supplies for the mine, followed along on a rope.
When they reached the mine a couple of hours later, Adam climbed down from his horse and began to look around, amazed at what he saw. There really was an operational mine up there, even if it was rudimentary. The equipment, operated by a few little Quechua men, was how Juvenal had described it.
Suddenly a question occurred to him. "How do you get the gasoline in here for that engine?"
"Once a week, we bring a string of llamas in, loaded with jerry cans," replied Juvenal.
Adam shook his head in amazement.
When he'd had a look at the equipment, Adam followed Juvenal into the mine tunnel to inspect the rock face. It looked like quartz but it was hard to be sure. Then Juvenal threw a bucket of water against the rock and shone his flashlight on it. Adam caught his breath. The vein of white quartz that filled the ro
ck face in front of him was heavily laden with beautiful black molybdenum oxide. With its high melting point, molybdenum was a key ingredient in the production of high quality steel alloy, and incredibly valuable.
"We should take some samples. Do you have a little hammer and a plastic bag or something?" he said to Juvenal, who waited patiently behind him.
A little while later, with the film in his camera spent, a little bag of white and black rock chips in his duffel bag, and a couple of pages of notes, Adam signalled to Juvenal that he was finished.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY
Two days later, Adam met Diego Madina for coffee. On his arrival back to Lima, he'd recapped what he'd seen at the mine. Diego had wanted some time to think.
"You said last night that it will take about $50,000 to put in a road and upgrade the equipment to make the mine productive right?"
Adam nodded.
"Would you be willing to invest that money?" Diego asked next.
Adam had been hoping he'd ask. "Sure, as long as there was some assurance you'd get a good crew in there and spend it carefully."
"I have a better idea. You've obviously got confidence in the vein. I'll lease the land to you, and you get it up and running."
Adam's heart skipped a beat. Then he grinned from ear to ear.
When Adam and David flew home, Adam's head was buzzing with ideas. He felt more alive than he had for a long time. The contract he'd signed with Diego was open-ended. The rights to a molybdenum mine in the Andes for as long as he wanted it. And all it had cost was $50,000 and a small percentage of profits for Diego. He'd need to get back to Peru right after Christmas and find an apartment and an office in Lima. Thankfully, David had agreed to oversee the businesses in Penticton.
Giddy with excitement, Adam sat back and let his mind wander through the adventure ahead. Everything would be new. A new culture, a new language to learn, a beautiful warm climate, exploring the Andes, a new business environment, and new problems to solve.
Unbeknownst to Adam, the recently elected left-wing military government that had been busy centralizing industry, had its sights set on mining. He couldn't have fully appreciated the challenges of building a privately held mine in that political climate, or even setting up a home, as the country underwent dramatic socialist reform. But he knew enough to know the project would take him into uncharted territory. And that was enough for him.
Jean's reaction proved once again that they were a good match.
"It sounds fascinating," she said as Adam described the palm-lined avenues and dramatic cliffs that rose above the beaches in the Miraflores suburb where Diego lived, and the contrasting countryside and the local people he'd seen on his trip to the mine. "Wow. You're going to be working in South America. I can't wait to see it all."
She wouldn't be able to travel with him right away though. Sue was in grade ten. She'd be 16 in the spring and was already excited about learning to drive. Sandy and Cheri had music lessons and lots of after-school activities to get to and from. All three were in the midst of the complications of being a teenager. The girls needed Jean at home, and she enjoyed managing their busy world. Plus, things tended to go more smoothly when Adam was busy with projects and didn't have time to worry about how differently kids were raised then, as compared to in his own youth.
In the big atlas they kept on the living room bookshelf, Adam showed the girls where the mine was located.
"My office will be here," he explained, pointing to Lima, "and the mine is here. It takes two days to get to the mine. First you fly this part, then you drive for a long time, here and here. Then you ride horses and llamas to here. It's so high up in the mountains there isn't much oxygen in the air so you have to breathe very deeply. And it's very cold up there at night, and I'll be sleeping in a tent, so I'll need a very warm sleeping bag."
The girls listened as he told them all about his new venture, and then excused themselves. Sue was meeting her friends to go the movies, and Sandy and Cheri had sleepovers planned.
"Why the hell are they sleeping at somebody else's house again?" Adam asked Jean as she put on her coat to drive them. He'd told Jean time after time that they could sleep in their own beds. Sleepovers were a bunch of nonsense. It wasn't their first disagreement on this topic. Adam and Jean argued frequently about what Adam saw as a lax, New World way of raising their daughters.
"Adam, we've talked about this. All the kids have sleepovers. It's just what they do. Why would we prevent our girls from joining in and having fun with their friends?" The look on her face told him the conversation was over.
Adam researched everything he could about the metal alloys markets and options for configuring the mining equipment. He and David spent time going over the details of the Penticton operations. Then he visited a travel agent to learn about the different routes for travelling between Penticton and Lima, and bought a one-way ticket. He wouldn't know until he'd been there for a while when he'd be able to get back.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE
1972
Back in Peru in January, Adam set up a desk in Merv's office, and found a little apartment where he could easily walk to the cliffs overlooking the beach. He needed to establish a company before he could do anything else. Minera San Diego was the name he wrote on the incorporation papers. Diego and his partner Father Juan would like that. They were well connected and Adam knew that a good relationship with them would serve him well.
After hiring a bilingual secretary, and an engineer with a bit of English, Adam set about purchasing the road-building equipment. Once road construction was underway, he would work on sourcing the mining equipment.
Each day, he dictated letters to suppliers, listing the equipment he needed and asking for quotes. The responses he got were bewildering. There was no equipment available.
"Si Jefe, this is the situation in Peru," explained his engineer. "Importation of almost every kind of goods has been banned by the new government. But in Peru, we do not have the industry to make many things. That means we cannot make it and we cannot import it. So now we have very little."
The three of them brainstormed and widened the net, writing to other mines and making calls to other engineers. No one had any suggestions. The days became weeks, and Adam began to realize that this was bigger than any business challenge he'd faced in Canada.
Peru was governed by General Velasco, who called himself "President of the Revolutionary Government." A socialist, Velasco had seized power in a military coup a few years earlier. His aim was to give justice to the poor and eliminate the wealthy class. He had nationalized entire industries already, consolidating them into large government-run entities. As Adam hit one brick wall after another, he began to appreciate how all-encompassing Velasco's control over the economic activities in Peru really was. Buying from an unauthorized supplier was illegal, and yet it was damned near impossible to find authorized suppliers. And when he did, they had no stock.
He had committed $50,000, signed a lease on a mine in a foreign country 8,000 kilometres from home, and incorporated a private company in an industry that the government was in the process of nationalizing. This was going to be difficult all right, if it was even possible.
Having achieved little, Adam booked a flight home. He'd been gone over two months. He wanted to spend some time with Jean and the girls, and give David a hand getting the mini-golf and the golf course ready to open for the season. And maybe a couple of weeks away would give him some new ideas.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO
Back in Penticton, the businesses were running well, but the girls were getting Bs and Cs on their report cards, another point he and Jean disagreed on. With no chores to do, Adam believed they should be getting A's. Between the report cards and not knowing what to do next in Peru, his frustration continued to grow. Then, a couple of weeks into his visit home, the phone rang.
The voice on the other end of the line said, "My name is Bruce Clymer. I'm a vice president in the market
ing division of Metallurg, based in New York. Are you familiar with Metallurg?"
Adam had in fact just been reading about Metallurg, a multi-national alloy trader. They produced steel, and other alloys. They were the second largest in the world if he wasn't mistaken, founded and still wholly owned by a Jewish family.
"Somewhat," said Adam. "How can I help you?"
"We're in the market for molybdenum and I contacted Mr. Diego Madina in Lima to discuss his property in southern Peru. Mr. Diego informed me that he has entered into a legal agreement with you, giving you the rights to his mine. He was kind enough to give me your telephone number. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"
A driver was waiting when Adam walked out the front door of the John F. Kennedy Airport in New York a week later. The sign he held said MR. BAUMANN in perfect block letters. The black stretch limousine behind him gleamed in the afternoon sun.
"That's me," Adam said to the smartly uniformed man.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Baumann. Welcome to New York City. Allow me to assist with your luggage," the chauffeur replied. Tucking the sign under his arm, he relieved Adam of his suitcase with one hand, and opened the car door with the other. "Make yourself comfortable. The bar is stocked. Please help yourself. The drive will take about thirty minutes."
When Adam was shown into the boardroom the next morning, he was glad he'd bought a new suit for the meeting. The group around the table included several members of Metallurg's legal team, their vice president of finance, a vice president in the research department, and a couple of executives from marketing, including Bruce Clymer.
After sharing some facts about Metallurg, which Adam already knew from his research, the group around the table listened attentively while Adam spoke. He explained what he thought the mine could produce, and his revised estimates of what it would cost to work his way through the politics and get the mine operational. They asked good questions, and when they were satisfied with their understanding of the mine, the focus turned to a partnership between Metallurg and Adam's new company, Minera San Diego. Time passed quickly and before Adam knew it, Bruce was suggesting they break for lunch.