‘Money? How much money?’
‘They say ten percent. Is not for discussion you understand. They know how much we are making, they want us to make money so we will keep selling, so we have an incentive.’
Tom felt a slight sense of relief, but he was still shaking. ‘So they take ten percent of the price we are selling at?’
‘Exact. You make less, but still a lot of money.’
‘So you’ll be taking a hit as well?’
‘Of course, but is better than what Andon takes.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We do nothing. We continue as before but I think we forget about moving on to the Kukova project for now, look for something else away from here, away from the coast maybe. Maybe we look across the border in Romania, or maybe in Sofia, I don’t know right now, I need to think.’
Tania was white faced. ‘Jesus, Tom, this is fucking serious stuff. What kind of shit are we in?’
‘We’re not in any shit as far as I can see; apart from having our margin trimmed a bit. These guys are relying on foreigners to buy this stuff; nobody in Bulgaria can buy these properties, especially at these kinds of prices, so they won’t do anything to spook the foreign companies working there.’
‘But if this ever gets out? We won’t sell another apartment.’
‘It won’t get out. Only you and I know about it, it won’t make the papers here, don’t worry about that part of it.’
Tania took a few deep breaths. ‘So what do we do now? Do we just continue as if nothing had happened?’
‘That’s the plan. Just keep selling and pretend that all is normal. Ehud reckons that he’ll come up with an alternative away from the territory that these guys control, and we can ease ourselves slowly out of Sunny Beach North and into the new location. We can keep selling on the coast, but at a reduced rate, and concentrate our sales on somewhere where we are getting the full margin again. It’ll be ok, we’ll be fine.’
‘What about the man that was killed? Was he one of the guys you met?’
‘Just on the first day; he was the Mayor. Nice kind of fellow, mild mannered, well spoken, probably corrupt as hell but he didn’t deserve to be shot like a dog.’
Tania went to the cabinet and took out a bottle of vodka and two tumblers. ‘Do you want one?’
Tom shook his head. ‘I could use one, but I’m trying to stay on top of this problem, so I’ll pass for now. Thanks.’
Tania poured a large vodka and added some tonic. She sat down heavily and drank half the contents of the glass. ‘So what do we do next?’
‘We haven’t much choice, just continue with this week’s show; keep the sunny side out and keep selling. Ehud is working on getting an alternative, somewhere away from there altogether, and I’ll go out there on Sunday night or Monday morning and get that end of things up and running.’
‘Ok, be careful, Tom; don’t get yourself shot out there.’
‘No real danger of that, Ehud reckons that they won’t touch a foreigner. It would bring too much heat on their heads, and anyway they need foreigners to generate the cash flow for their own developments.’
‘That makes sense, but be careful anyway.’
‘I’m touched by your concern. By the way, nobody else needs to know about this, not Andrew, not Macken, nobody. Ok?’
‘I don’t know why you have such a set on Mickey, are you a bit jealous of him?’
‘Don’t be daft, Tania; just don’t give him any idea that anything is wrong. Say nothing, ok?’
‘Ok, Tom, maybe you’re right.’
‘New car?’
‘Yes, I think is better than the old one, will get me out of trouble faster maybe.’
Ehud grinned as he opened the door of the BMW. Nikolai started up the engine of his motorcycle and headed out along the airport exit road and the Israeli followed behind.
Tom clicked on his seat belt and settled back in the comfortable leather seat. ‘You’re coming up in the world, my friend, very impressive motor.’
‘Is better I think to have a good car in this country, anyway we are making money, Tom, a lot of money.’
‘We were anyway, Ehud, not so sure about now; will we get paid for everything now that these guys are in charge?’
‘Maybe not the last payment, but this is normal anyway in business here, so nothing new. No, they are starting to do big business with the English agencies, the big ones, and they do not want to give an impression that there will be problems. I think we are in best position, we will be mostly paid. Maybe the companies that come after will get less, or nothing.’
‘Any more Irish companies sniffing around here now?’
‘Almost every day, some agents are coming, but they are mostly small and are not getting local prices like we do. They are paying full foreigner prices and then they must get commission on top, so they can not compete with us.’
‘Anyone we know?’
‘From the list you gave me, only one. Mister Simpson was here last week, spoke to Uspeh Developments in Varna and made a deal, but only for approximately forty apartment. He will not be paid for his work; Uspeh will not pay, I know these jerks. Nobody will be paid, not the constructor, nobody.’
Nikolai indicated left and headed out of the city. Ehud opened up the BMW and they raced along the road, the motorcycle siren clearing them past lines of trucks and slower cars. At the outskirts of the city the policeman slowed and waved them on to pass him.
‘So, where are we heading?’
‘To a place called Malko, is in the mountains.’
‘You think there is a market in the mountains for property?’
‘No problem, already the English are buying ski property in Ban-sko, is selling almost as well as the coast. If we make the thing with the rental guarantee, we can sell a lot of this kind of product.’
‘So is the skiing good in Malko?’
‘Sometimes, I guess so, sure.’ The Israeli laughed heartily.
‘So not too good then?’
‘Is not our problem, Tom, sure there is skiing there, not like Austria or France you understand, but you can ski for sure.’
‘I guess so, Ehud, we’re only selling the apartments, not the snow.’
‘Exact. Most important thing, Tom, can we make business in Malko and can we get paid? This is all that is our concern. After that, if buyers want to buy, they should make their own enquiries about the quality if the snow.’
‘Anyway, they’ll have a guaranteed return.’
The Israeli laughed. ‘Very good, Tom. Yes, they will have a guaranteed return.’
‘Ok, guys, we need to get this strategy together before the weekend. This is a new departure for us; ski property is a different ball game.’ Tom opened up a new flip chart and pulled the cap off a marker pen. ‘Any ideas, any points that will help so move this stuff?’
Andrew was hesitant. ‘I’ve never been skiing, but maybe we need to sound as if we have all skied a bit, maybe even in Bulgaria?’
‘Good point, Andrew, sound like we know the product.’ Tom scribbled on the chart. ‘Trevor, will you get on the net after this and pull down as much info on Bulgarian ski holidays as you can?’
Andrew was becoming more enthusiastic. ‘We could say that Malko is thinking of applying for the Winter Olympics.’
‘Many a true word was spoken in jest, Andy, that’s a good line.’ Tom wrote ‘Winter Olympics’ on the chart.
‘But we can’t really say that, can we?’ Trevor was new, and was still learning.
Tom laughed. ‘We can’t say that they are applying, not unless slush-boarding is a new event in the Olympics. Nothing to stop us saying that they are thinking of applying; they may well be thinking about it. Nothing wrong with saying that.’
‘Thinking of’ is a good phrase. ‘Covers a multitude.’ Andrew was in creative mood. ‘We could say that one of the budget airlines is thinking of flying there.’
‘Nice one, Andrew, sounds good. It works everywhere else.’
Tom wrote ‘Budget Airlines’ on the page.
‘Joining the EU shortly.’
‘Thanks, Trevor. Tom marked ‘EU, prices to rise’ on the top of the list.
‘Biggest problem I see is that this skiing business is a short season, what happens with the places for the rest of the year?’
‘Good point, Trevor. We can just say what they say in France, that you can rent to walkers and hikers and all that.’
‘But that never happens, does it?’
‘It could possibly, if they found renters themselves. It happens in some places, although on a very small scale. Maybe Bulgaria will turn into a hikers’ paradise when they join the EU.’ Tom wrote ‘Hikers’ on the chart.
‘Guaranteed rent of course.’
‘Thanks, Andy.’ Tom scribbled.
‘So who pays the guaranteed rent? Is it all the year round?’
‘We guarantee it, Trevor, but we have contracts with tour operators.’ Tom didn’t believe in telling the sales team everything.
‘And can we show these contracts to the buyers?’
‘Commercial confidentiality, Trevor, that’s why we have to underwrite the guarantee ourselves.’
‘Prices rising at twenty percent a year.’
‘Thanks, Andy. Yes, we’ll be putting up the price of the next phase by twenty percent, maybe even more if the demand is strong.’
‘We need to be in more places, Tom, we’re the biggest and we are going to stay the biggest.’
‘I don’t see the point in being in countries just for the sake of being in countries; we only need to be in places where we are making money.’
‘Look, Tom, you don’t get it, this is about more than money. We’re the big operators here; everyone else is trotting to keep up. We have to be breaking new ground all the time, breaking into new markets.’
‘Ok, Tania, but let’s keep our eye on the ball as well. Bulgaria and Spain are making the money for us; the others are just window dressing. We’ve only sold a dozen French leasebacks in the last month, not worth our while being in that market at all, and neither of us has ever been to France.’
‘Not true, I was at a match in Paris once.’
‘That doesn’t count; I mean we never even looked at the developments we’re selling in France.’
‘We never went to Turkey either, and look how well that did for us.’
‘I don’t like taking those kinds of chances, Tania, I would honestly prefer that we at least had a look at anything we sell; we need to be sure that it exists.’
‘Are you getting timid on me, Tom? I thought you had a lot more bottle than that.’
‘I have plenty of bottle, Tania, I just don’t see the point in trying to be in so many different territories when we can do very well in two or three, and do them properly. What’s with this global domination stuff anyway?’
‘I don’t think you’ll ever understand, Tom; Scorpio is my baby. I named the company after my star sign, and I want the brand to be universal. I want it to be respected. This isn’t just about the money, Tom.’
‘It is for me. When the money stops, I’m gone.’
Tania pushed two printed pages across the desk. ‘Well if you’re so concerned about checking out the facts, why don’t you get on a plane this afternoon and check out the latest offerings?’
Tom scanned the printouts quickly. ‘Montenegro? The Lebanon? Are we not scraping the bottom of the barrel here?’
His boss laughed. ‘If people want it, we should supply it. What’s wrong with those locations?’
‘We discussed Montenegro weeks ago; it’s a crazy place, complete lack of law and order. They don’t even have their own currency.’
‘Crazier than Sunny Beach North?’
‘Ok, ok, I’ll go to Montenegro this evening. So what’s the story with the Lebanon?’
‘I’m very excited about the Lebanon, everyone knows where it is because our soldiers served there on peacekeeping duties. It has such a romantic air about it too don’t you think? Cedar trees and all that kind of crap.’
‘So where did you come across these two offerings?’
‘They emailed us, looking for us to represent them in Ireland. I reckon that the word is out that Irish buyers will buy anything, anywhere. The Lebanese came through your Israeli friends. All the contact names are on there, I reckon if you go to Dubrovnik and drive down to Montenegro it’s the best way. You can fly back to Rome from Dubrovnik and on to Beruit, do the whole circuit before Friday.’
‘You’re a slave driver, Tania Sherry. I don’t know why I do it.’
‘You do it for the money, Tom. Have a good trip.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Are you with the group?’
Tom looked at the woman with the walking stick. She was dressed in an old-fashioned manner that made her look older, but he guessed that she was really no more than fifty. Her mostly brown headscarf matched the thick plastic frames of her spectacles, and she had the eager look of the very devout. A large wooden cross hung from a leather thong around her neck, and her walking stick was emblazoned with small shields and badges that told a history of many pilgrimages.
‘Group? What group?’
‘Father John’s group, he’s the leader. That’s him over there; oh he’s a wonderful man, a very holy man.’
Tom looked in the direction of the leader. A plump red-faced man in black clerical garb was holding court to a group of excited middle aged women and a few slightly nervous looking men. Like the woman in front of Tom in the check-in queue, Father John also wore a wooden cross around his neck, and he repeatedly tapped the ground with an even more decorated walking stick.
Tom turned his gaze back to the woman. ‘No, I’m not with any group.’
‘A solitary pilgrim so, you must be very experienced to do it on your own, I’d say you’re a priest, or maybe a monk. You should join with us, there’s safety in numbers and we can pray together.’
‘Madam, I’m just trying to get on my flight, I know nothing about any group or anything else.’
‘But this is the plane for Medjugorje, why would you be going if you’re not with the group?’
‘I’m going to Dubrovnik, I know nothing about Medjugorje or any group, or Father bloody John or anything else.’
‘Oh my God, I’m in the wrong queue, sorry, sorry, where do I go now? Father John, Father John, Help me please!’
The priest tap-tapped his way across the departures area, followed by his flock. ‘What’s wrong, dear?’
‘I’m in the wrong queue, Father; where do I go to get on the plane?’
The stout priest looked up at the screen. ‘No, you’re fine, dear; that’s the right place.’
‘But this man says it’s not going to Medjugorje.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Tom wished that the whole lot of them would get out of his face. ‘I just said that I wasn’t going to bloody Medjugorje, that’s all.’
‘No need to swear, young man; show some respect for decent Christian people. It’s ok, dear; you’re in the right place. This is your flight, don’t worry.’
She glared at Tom. ‘Why would you try to put me wrong? May God forgive you; are you a Protestant or a Muslim or what’s wrong with you?’
Tom ignored the woman and eventually she checked in and joined her group. He gratefully took the boarding pass from the woman at the desk and headed for security, moving quickly to get there before the straggling line of pilgrims that trailed behind Father John.
He had an aisle seat in the front row and he boarded late, waiting until the rush had subsided before heading down the airbridge. The plane was chaotic, with some of the cabin staff trying to get the pilgrims to sit down so that they could get the flight under way. This was proving difficult; Father John was moving up and down the aisle, counting his group and checking their names against a list. It was clear that someone was missing.
Eventually she arrived; it was the pious woman that Tom had encountered in the check-in queue. On
e of the cabin stewards rushed her to her seat and they closed the doors and started on the announcements as the passenger apologized to nobody in particular. ‘Sorry, sorry, were you all waiting for me? I just went into the toilet and said a rosary that we’d all be safe, I didn’t think anyone would mind; we all need prayer, especially at times like this.’
The captain apologized for the delay as he taxied out to the runway. His voice was quickly drowned out by the rising sound of prayers being recited by Father John and his group, a sound that swelled in time with the rising roar of the engines as the airbus accelerated down the tarmac. Tom caught the eye of the young stewardess who was sitting across from him; she raised an eyebrow imperceptibly and smiled slightly. It looked as if this might be nothing out of the ordinary on the Dubrovnik flight.
The sound of hymn singing woke Tom; they were making the descent over the Adriatic. He was grateful for his front row seat; at least he would be off the plane and through passport control before Father John and his followers clogged up the place.
The driver was waiting at the barrier with Tom’s name written on a sheet of paper. ‘Welcome, Mr. Murphy, I am Vladimir. I hope you had a good flight, come this way please.’
Tom followed the young Montenegrin to the waiting Jeep and they drove south from the airport, away from the city. The road was busy but the traffic was flowing freely, and they reached the border in just a few minutes. The border post looked to Tom like a temporary measure, just a few shipping containers painted in United Nations Blue, and a scattering of blue-capped UN personnel keeping a watchful eye on the cars and trucks that passed through the police control. He showed his passport to the border policeman, who stamped it and passed it back with barely a glance.
One of the men in the blue berets approached the jeep and motioned Tom to get out of the vehicle. He looked at the driver for reassurance; ‘Is this normal?’
‘It’s ok, they check a small percentage of persons; they are UN police observers, no problem with them.’
Tom got out of the car and walked towards one of the blue containers with the policeman. He was surprised at the Irish accent when the man spoke to him.
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