Chapter 95
While events were in train in Cape Town, things were taking a different turn at Plantation’s office in Fenchurch Street.
George Waring had taken over Ashby’s office. Despite protests from Wells, he’d heaped all of the claims papers in a corner of the room, ready for removal. With him, were a small army of management consultants seconded from an American firm, accountants from one of the large British firms and their graduate trainees, all of whom knew nothing about the type of business Plantation did. They’d been told to find out the up to date position in the company – the learning exercise being at the expense of the creditors whose ‘governing’ committee had yet to be formed. It would have been far less costly to have kept all of the existing employees and got the information from them, rather than bringing in a crowd of untrained graduates. Yet that would have been ‘unprofessional’.
Before long, the company’s business had ground to a halt : payments could not be approved without Waring’s signature or one of his subordinates, all of whom were never around, didn’t have time or didn’t understand why the money had to be paid in the first place.
For most of the time, people who worked in the claims or accounting departments were side-lined to explain things or had to attend management conferences about the new way things had to be done or were being summarily dismissed. The underwriting department had disappeared ; those underwriters who were left, had nothing to do all day until Waring and his minions could decide what should become of them or how much to pay them to leave.
The original Stirling directors were all out of the office, looking for new jobs and only Grenville and Black remained.
Meanwhile, the phones were running hot with calls from underwriters in other insurers, brokers from every agency imaginable, claims managers in other companies, a sizeable proportion of Plantation’s clients and creditors with unpaid claims : all of them wanted to know what was going on in their individual claim or insurance contract. Most of the messages went unanswered as there was no-one around to deal with them.
“It’s becoming rather fraught, isn’t it ?” said Black as he and Grenville both looked across the open plan office at the chaos of ringing phones, empty desks, brokers lined up in the reception waiting to see anyone who was around, mounds of files piled floor to ceiling high and witless graduates running to and fro looking for missing files or people to pester.
“Our friends are ready to talk to us at a convenient moment. Should I arrange something for later this week ?”
Black thought for a moment. “What has become of Ashby? Is there any word of him ?”
“Do we really need to worry about him any more at this stage of the game ? What can he do about it now ?”
“Don’t under-estimate him. Until he’s finally out of the way, we’ll have to deal with him, one way or the other. But anyway, let’s get things moving in the meantime. Why don’t you order a magnum.....no, a jeroboam of champagne for a private room at The Promontory Club in Lombard Street. It’s quiet there and fairly exclusive so we can have some space to ourselves and order dinner if we get on to discussing figures.”
“An excellent idea,” said Grenville.
Plantation A Legal Thriller Page 95