Chapter 99
While Ashby had been speaking to Hardearn, events were moving in a different direction at the Promontory Club in Lombard Street.
Two private dining rooms had been set aside for Plantation that evening. In one of the rooms, sat Vittorio Gallazone of Vesuvio Specifica Assicurazioni – Specifica – and two of his colleagues from the Naples office. Premium vintage champagne was flowing and Nigel Black had filled everyone’s glasses to the brim.
In the second room, further along the corridor, were Max Weber of Alt Deutsche Versicherung – ADV – and a director from their London office. They were also drinking champagne and Roger Grenville was their host.
Both Specifica and ADV were being worked on simultaneously. Neither of them knew of the other’s presence or that they were being entertained at the same time. If they had, both of them would have walked out.
Dinner had not yet been served. Each room was still making its way through a jeroboam of bubbly.
In the first room, the Italians were savouring what they considered to be one of the best years of the Champagne region’s produce.
“Nigel, I must compliment you – you are a connoisseur of champagne. This is superb.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” said Black.
“We haven’t seen you for some time. You’ve must have been very busy with Plantation, now that it is....no longer active. Time for a new beginning, eh ? Let us toast the future,” and raising his glass of champagne, he announced, “To the new Plantation Re – as part of Specifica Europa – Specifica Europe.”
“The prospects are unlimited,” said Black while considering to himself that the dinner was going the way he intended. “But tell me, Vittorio, how much were you thinking of investing ?”
He was referring to the amount Plantation owed its creditors. Once they were paid off, the ‘investor’ would take over what was left of the company. Waring wanted to offload the healthy parts as soon as he could, for the largest up-front payment he could get. He wasn’t in the business of running companies for profit ; he dismembered them, bundled off the good bits, took away the bad bits to somewhere cheap and obscure in the provinces, ran them down to nothing over so many years and was paid handsomely for doing so along the way.
The true position (as Black well knew) was that at worst, Plantation was only technically out of pocket. All of the largest claims could be completely avoided – including the Captain Stratos, Victor Oil, Caspian and the others. This meant that the vast majority of the business was extremely profitable. All that was missing was someone to head it in the right direction.
“How much ?” repeated Gallazone, smiling but wary of quoting figures. “Well, I cannot say.....How much is owing to the creditors ?” He never opened the bidding and left that to the seller.
“The creditors ? That is what Waring is trying to find out. The poor fellow can’t make head nor tail of anything so far. No-one he’s brought in understands anything about the business at all. It’s quite amusing to see the poor souls searching all day for contracts and files...” And everyone laughed together.
“Maybe.....you could give them a few clues to speed things up ?”
“We could – but that would be doing their job for them. We prefer to wait. We know where there are veins of gold running through the business and how to tap them. It would take the liquidator years to find them and further years to assess them and yet more years to extract any value from them – whereas we know right now where the most valuable parts of the business are and how the creditors could be disposed of very easily.”
“And so, how much value is there in Plantation’s business ?”
“A very, great deal – certainly more than Specifica’s turnover in London.”
Black had done his research thoroughly and knew exactly how much profit Specifica produced each year. It was an open secret that they’d found it difficult to build a following in the London market. Their only option was to buy a successful operator.
“That is verra interesting,” responded Gallazone, at the same time thinking that the assimilation of Plantation’s clients by Specifica would be a rare coup for him to achieve. He imagined his superiors in Naples applauding his acumen ; they might vote him a directorship on Specifica’s main board at its headquarters overlooking the Bay of Naples, facing the opposite side of the bay and the rough end of town. After two years in London, he was tired of the dull British cuisine – fried chips with everything and the detestable beer which everyone drank – flat and watery or fizzy froth. He missed the long lunches with a good bottle of Chianti.
One of his colleagues suddenly spoke. “But surely Nigel, you must know roughly how much could be needed to extract these ‘rich veins of gold’, as you say ? What would it take to start the discussions with Signore Waring ?”
“If you’re asking me for a rough estimation – well, I could only guess of course.” (He’d actually calculated the precise amount weeks before in readiness for this conversation.) “But it would need at least four hundred million pounds.” This was the hors d’oeuvre to gain the confidence of the Italians. The true figure which Black and Grenville were aiming for was double that amount. In between the start and the end of the evening, they intended to force up the bidding between Specifica and ADV.
“Perhaps.... it might be possible....” mused Gallazone.
“Please excuse me for a moment,” said Black as he got up to leave the room. It was precisely seven o’clock. Grenville and Black had earlier synchronised their watches. In the corridor, Grenville was waiting for him.
“I’ve just put four hundred to them,” said Black.
“I’ve done the same,” said Grenville. “Let’s change places and see how far they’ll go.”
When Grenville entered the room where Gallazone and his colleagues from Specifica were discussing the limit of their bid, the Italian said “Ah, Roger, my friend. You have joined us at last. But where is Nigel ?”
“He’s been called away and will join us in a moment. I hear that Specifica may be interested in bidding six hundred and fifty million for Plantation ?”
“Six hundred and.....mama mia, you’re mistaken. Ha ha, I said no such thing.”
“Perhaps I misheard. But I’m sure Nigel said Plantation was worth more than six hundred and fifty million.”
“What ? Ah no, no, my friend. Please. We will not be part of any, how you say – a Dutch auction.”
But that was precisely what was happening. In the other dining room with Weber and his co-director, the same trick was being sprung by Black to try and push the Germans to bid more.
“Six fifty is beyond our budget,” said Weber.
“I can tell you that Specifica have just this moment offered that exact amount,” said Black “and what’s more, they are determined to have Plantation for themselves.”
“Then that is a matter for them.”
“They see extremely good value in Plantation’s business portfolio. They plan to build on that. If they get Plantation, they will outclass ADV in London.”
“If they get Plantation. And where is Herr Robert Ashby ? What has become of him ?”
“He’s no longer associated with the company, now that it’s in liquidation. You needn’t worry about him.”
“But Nigel, I do worry about him because I know the Ashbys – they don’t just roll over like some old Labrador and go to sleep. They do not give in easily. So you see, any future buyer of the business will have to deal with Robert Ashby – and that, I promise you, will not be easy.”
Plantation A Legal Thriller Page 99