by W B Garalt
The transport was closing in on the city location of the Hotel where the party members were booked to spend the next two nights. As they rode past the café where Maggie and Max had dined and drank, on that mysterious and fateful night during their last visit, Maggie un-noticeably nudged Max with her elbow. He glanced her way, with one raised eyebrow in response, which meant ‘we will talk about this later’.
After checking in at the hotel reserved for their visit by USAP Head Secretary Heather Copeland, Max and Maggie exchanged US dollars for Canadian currency at the front desk. Although they paid as they went with internationally-recognized credit cards, the local currency sometimes had an advantage. According to Max, the universal adage ‘cash talks’ always seemed to verify itself. Although the exchange rate devalued their monetary value somewhat, Maggie went along with the exchange. Once altered, the Canadian dollars seemed to shadow the buying power experienced in the U.S., but to Americans it was as though every purchase included an eight percent surcharge. Max didn’t care since he was traveling on business with expenses reimbursed by USAP and he was picking up the tab for both of them.
Max called Lamar and Mario in their rooms to arrange a meeting at lunch. Gathered in the hotel lobby the foursome agreed to take a short walk down to the waterfront and a trial run at a quaint-sounding dockside chowder house which was listed in the hotel tourism brochure. The walk was short, but on a steep down-grade to a wide shore-side lateral wharf. A kibitzing discussion among the group included the idea that one might have second thoughts about walking back up to the hotel on a full stomach.
“Well, let’s go ahead and fill the stomachs. I’m famished,” Maggie suggested. “After lunch I’ll call a cab for you guys if you need one.” By then they had reached their destination and the group entered laughing.
The startled hostess, a well-rounded middle aged woman with carrot-orange hair, led them to a table with a ‘Who-the-hell-are-these-people’ look on her ample face. She was, however, friendly and courteous, as were most of the service folks in the city. Tourists were quite welcome.
The lunch was good, they all agreed, and Max added a generous tip to the tab. There was much overly-animated grunting and groaning from Mario and Lamar on the climbing walk back to the hotel. Their physical state was good, so obviously it was a prearranged skit aimed good- naturedly at Maggie for her earlier comments.
“Okay, you clowns, suck it up,” Maggie chided. “We’ve got some ground to cover this afternoon.” It was taken with good humor by the group, which was usually the case with Maggie’s calculated, obviously-feigned aggressiveness when dealing with men. Max, of course, was accustomed to it.
Two rental cars were ordered at the hotel. The team split-up with Maggie escorted by Mario, on an agenda to visit financial managers. Mario was to drive and act as translator, if needed. Max coupled up with Lamar as they headed out to canvass the city to locate, and take photos of, recently sold commercial/industrial properties. They planned to visit three real estate brokerages and, if time allowed, a visit at the Bickford Marine Lab. Lamar was to drive and act as bodyguard in any adverse situations, especially around the rough-and-tumble commercial waterfront areas. The plan was to re-connect at the hotel at 6:00 PM.
From his compiled list of locations, Max directed Lamar to the first recent sale of commercial/industrial property. The address was one half mile northeast of the Bickford Lab. It was on a waterfront parcel and consisted of two warehouse buildings with an enclosed office in one of them. Max took pictures and they moved on to the next property which was across town, located on a parcel which included deeded waterfront access nearby. It was similar to the previous property as far as improvements of buildings and paving. The third comparative sale was a commercial boatyard, one quarter of a mile south of the Bickford property. The ocean access was similar although with more waterfront footage, typical of a commercial marine operation, and less enclosed storage area.
When Max stepped out of the rental car to snap pics of the boatyard, a pickup truck drove quickly to where Lamar had pulled up and was waiting for Max. With a spray of loose gravel rattling off the steel mesh fencing, the pickup stopped, blocking the forward motion of the rental car. The slim, older driver and a stocky, looking younger cohort both exited the truck and approached menacingly on foot.
“Do you people have a good reason for the picture-taking here?” the driver asked as Lamar got out of the car and planted his large frame in front of Max. At the sight of Lamar, both of the men stopped in their tracks.
“We’re doing a survey of recent real estate sales listed at the Halifax Courthouse,” Max responded with a stern, official-sounding tone as he stepped to Lamar’s side. He took out a clip-on ID card in laminated plastic and held it up for the men to see. They were at a loss for words for a moment. Taking advantage of the hesitation in the aggressive challenge, Max put the ID card back in his pocket and pressed on.
“Have any changes been made to the property since the sale that the city is not aware of?” he asked. Both of the men shook their heads and turned their hands face up, the universal sign for ‘How should we know?’ At that, they both turned on their heels and walked back to the pickup.
After Max and Lamar continued on their way, Lamar stated, “That was an impressive show-down you pulled off, man. They could have been armed, and I wasn’t, because of customs.”
“That was no bluff, I simply stated our reason for being there,” Max said. “I showed my ID and asked people connected with the property if there had been any changes made. When we go to the permit office and see that no changes had been filed since the sale, we might understand the reason for their abrupt turn-around,” Max stated matter-of-factly. Wearing a slight smile, Lamar nodded, seemingly amused. At the same time he was impressed with the way Max diffused the potential altercation. After all, Lamar’s background dictated a ‘survival-of-the-fittest’ mentality and his size and physique lent an effectively intimidating presence to a confrontation.
“I think those two put the brakes on pretty fast when you stepped in and looked down at them with your right hand on your back pocket,” Max said with the mutual compliment. Lamar laughed.
“Well, a little bluff sometimes works for me too,” Lamar admitted. “I’m not ‘carrying’ right now,” he said, referring to his not being armed.
With the recent sales inspections completed, Max’s next stop was at the Halifax City Courthouse for an examination of the deed transfers. That was to verify the transactions. The mission was completed just before the registry/tax office closed for the day.
Maggie got the call from Max just as she and Mario arrived back at the hotel. Her day of meetings with the financial ‘who’s-who’ in Halifax had provided valuable information to Max’s quest for an accurate value estimate. She knew he would be pleased with her contribution to his assignment. Mario had been of considerable assistance in that two of Maggie’s interviews were with persons not totally fluent in English. One was a Canadian-French native who served that segment of the Halifax population. This subdivision was a small minority in Halifax but they represented a wealthy faction, one which was very active in, and had a substantial influence on, real estate values. One other was an Asian who dealt with Chinese, Japanese, Korean and East Indian investors. Those members of the financial population were substantially invested in Halifax and other Nova Scotia Real Estate.
Mario, versed in so many diverse languages, had proved to be invaluable to Maggie in her quest to get the feeling for the local, as well as the international, real estate investment practices and influential impact on the Halifax, Nova Scotia commercial and industrial values. One example was with the financial advisor for the Chinese communist government investment bloc who stated that the accepted American capitalistic investment practice was ‘ideal’, which turned out to be, according to correct interpretation, “idiotic”. The final result of this interview was considered to be, according to Maggie, ‘idealistic trash’. This was included in her note to M
ax. Included in her notes to Max was “Hats-off to Mario for picking up on this immense disingenuous effect due to dialect”. After that interview when they had left the Chinese investor’s office, Mario spoke.
“Maggie, that Chinese jerk, with a smile, said to your face that American capitalists were idiots! He substituted one word which changed the whole meaning of his statement!”
“Are you sure Mario?” she had asked. Mario was definite on his response. “I went to college with a Chinese kid named Wong Hu from the same province that the jerk came from. There are huge numbers of dialects in China but each province has its own distinct interpretation. Believe me, he knew exactly what he was saying, and it was probably being recorded for ‘The State’.
Maggie was appreciative of that interpretation and noted an X in her interview schedule for that visit. Maggie felt that Mario was genuinely congenial during their afternoon of driving and meeting and talking, although she sensed that he would instantaneously pounce on any slightest hint of personal interest on her part. During the entire afternoon she had been on guard so as to prevent this from happening. Also, her sense of smell had had its fill of his rather excessively-applied cologne for one day. When they entered the hotel lobby Maggie felt it was time to part and go their respective ways.
“Thanks for the help Mario. I’ve got to freshen up to meet with Max for dinner. He’ll be here soon if he’s not here already.”
“No problem Maggie, anytime,” Mario responded, with a slight hesitation which he was sure that Maggie did not detect.
Fifteen minutes after Maggie had gotten got back to their suite, and having showered and donned her bathrobe, Max entered with the latch clicking closed behind him. Maggie rushed to him with an embrace. The long, passionate kiss that he received from the love of his life melted away all traces of tension which he had accumulated during his arduous day of project investigations. It all disappeared in a few seconds and, in the presumed protection from the surrounding world, he succumbed to the overwhelming flood of sexual craving for the woman that he had no disposition to refuse, whatever her needs may be, those needs, as well as his, became totally satisfied.
Forty minutes had elapsed when the two lovers recovered from their exhaustion and rose from their bed, famished and anxious to wash and dress for their evening meal. This had been an eventful and productive day.
The evening was cool and damp as Maggie and Max strolled along the Halifax streets for exercise and fresh ocean air. In twenty minutes they had passed by four dining establishments which were recommended by the area merchants’ promotional pamphlet from their hotel room. One had recently closed for the season. There was an up-scale Italian Pizzeria, a Chowder and Clam cakes eatery and the inevitable Chinese restaurant. Each had a bill-of-fare in a front window which was perused by the hungry, but not famished, couple. None of the places intrigued them enough to do a walk-in, so, having had enough exercise and feeling a chill from the damp, after-sundown air, they strode back to the hotel.
The desk manager at the check-in counter handed Max the room key (the old-style security system was still in use) and asked if they would be interested in dinner in the hotel dining room. Max looked at Maggie and she nodded. There were two other couples, one traveling businessman-type eating solo and a family foursome seated in the dimmed light of the thirty-table dining room. The head waitress seated the travelers at a table with a window along the sidewalk.
Martinis were ordered and the two Halifax newcomers scanned the menus. Once the order was placed the two sat back and relaxed, chatting mostly about their mission and what the next step would be. When the Martinis arrived, each peered at the contents of their glass. They glanced at each other with amused concern. Thinking back to their last trip to Halifax they kidded about who was going to take the first drink. Finally, on the count of three, they each took a small sip, swallowed, waited for a few minutes, and then both let out a not-adequately muffled burst of laughter. In their reflections on the window overlooking the table they could see the curious stares from the other patrons. Maggie had laughed the loudest and longest.
“Sure, easy for you to laugh,” Max said, struggling to talk quietly through the suppressed amusement. “I was the one that was snookered. That could have been serious trouble for both of us.”
“I know, I’m sorry Max, but you were so ….,” she trailed off. “Have any of those super-spy buddies of yours at headquarters come up with what that was all about?” Maggie asked, referencing their escapade on the previous visit to Nova Scotia. Max explained that he hadn’t gotten into detail about the matter because he wasn’t totally confident in the degree of loyalty he could expect from the group, per se, and he sensed that there were alliances within the Partnership which were not readily discernable. Relying on his best judgment, he was letting circumstances play out for the time being.
Red-faced, they both stifled the remainder of the laughing urge and resumed the discussion regarding the plan for Tuesday.
“I see no problem for ‘The Partnership’ financing the purchase of the real estate, if that is the decision,” Maggie said. “And, as far as your market value estimate goes there are competitive finance sources willing to lend to any qualified, interested buyer. If the construction passes muster that should have a positive effect on the value.”
“That’s great Mag,” Max responded. “If I include your summation of the current financing situation here in Halifax that will erase any question or doubts the Partners may have about investing here.” Maggie nodded in agreement through a sip of her martini. Max indicated that the next step would be a field audit of the Bickford Lab business operation.
“Tomorrow morning we’ll take Mario and Lamar along, and I’ll take a look at the books to see what the business is worth, if anything,” Max said, rather grimly.
Chapter 15
Tuesday morning in Halifax dawned within a dark, rainy ocean storm which had spun rapidly past the U.S Atlantic coast states and was delivering a back-handed slap to the Nova Scotia coastline on its way toward Scandinavia.
Max and Maggie had breakfast delivered to their suite. It arrived while Maggie was in the shower and Max took the wheeled-in delivery trays of poached eggs, Canadian bacon, toast and a coffee urn. He gave a reasonable tip to the bellhop, a middle-aged native Canadian-Indian who seemed appreciative of the amount, although he gave Max a curiously long stare as he backed out of the suite door. Max shrugged off the noticeable scrutiny and went about placing the dining cart between two chamber chairs.
Maggie soon appeared wrapped in her robe and gave an approving look at the breakfast arrangement.
“What a lousy day,” she commented, “but what a delightful breakfast presentation, and what a delightful presenter,” she quipped.
“Yeah, the weather isn’t doing much for my attitude towards our agenda,” Max stated solemnly. “But I can’t complain about the ‘present company’ either,” he said, following up with a dash of mutual appreciation. Maggie, knowing Max as she did, had picked up on his uncharacteristic negativism toward this task of evaluating the Bickford Laboratory business but, since Max hadn’t broached the subject, she had hesitated to comment.
When Maggie finished dressing she called her office back in East Wayford to check in with, and check up on, Jessie. All was well, and Jessie indicted there were two potential clients, which Maggie had prospected, that had called to arrange an appointment. Maggie told Jessie that she would be back in town late Wednesday or Thursday morning, and to call the prospects to set appointments Thursday afternoon or Friday.
Max was glad to hear that things were going well for Maggie. He kidded her about being such an amazing businesswoman, being able to conduct her business as usual without even being there. Maggie knew that Max was just joshing, but she appreciated his flattery anyway.
An assemblage of the USAP fact-finding delegation took place in the hotel lobby at 9:00 AM and Max briefly outlined the agenda of the day.
Morning - Meet with the co
mpany accountant to examine the Bickford Laboratory Company records, accounts and files, both physical and electronic. Then lunch.
Afternoon - Meet the operations managers and staff and interview any of the above, as-necessary.
Following the meeting Mario drove the foursome in the rental sedan, through the wind-driven rain, to the Bickford Lab location. The main entry door to the lab was locked when Max and his entourage arrived. The foursome huddled under a small canopy. A buzzer beside the doorframe was pressed and, with no result, was then pressed again. Finally, the door was opened and a large, dark-complexioned man in soiled clothing opened the door. He stood in the doorway without speaking and blocked any entry to the unlit interior.
“I’m Max Hargrove. I have an appointment with the company accountant. Is he here?” Max asked. From behind the man who opened the door a male voice asked, “Who is it, Thomas?”
“People to see the ‘ackoon-tan’,” he imitated, with a thick accent. At that, a slender middle-aged man with thick eyeglasses perched on his generous nose, stepped in front to greet the visitors.
“Come in, please, I’m Simon Lagasse. I keep the records for the Company,” he offered. Max entered with his entourage and followed Lagasse to a small, and somewhat untidy, windowless office. The bookkeeper’s office served as the pay station. With the office door closed on payday, a cashier’s window just to the left was Lagasse’s position, where the workers approached in single file to collect their wages.
While Max and Maggie met with Lagasse, Mario sat in a waiting chair outside of the paymaster’s office. There was no translation needed at that point so he was waiting for the upcoming introductions and brief interviews with the staff. Lamar was roaming through the structure chatting here and there wherever, and with whomever, the opportunity existed. He seemed to be familiar with some of the workers, mostly the locals of Native Canadian Indian lineage.