day and you had a hot, assertive woman in her prime. “Nothing new,” she said, “but I’m expecting to foreclose on those three new exploration wells in the next ten days.”
“How’d they perform?” Arthur Ridgeway asked.
“The first two are gushers, and they’re drilling the third now. Because of their success, they’re going to expect us to extend the finance package. They’re going to be in for a shock,” Lydia responded.
“You lent them just enough to ensure they’d fail,” Ridgeway said.
“Exactly, and I didn’t release the loan monies until after they’d drilled the first well and struck pay dirt,” Lydia said.
“Well done, Lydia,” Becker said. “Those wells will add nicely to our energy portfolio. Okay, Harry, you’re in such a hurry, you’re up next.”
“I’m making sure that our transport business wins a major tender for the delivery of milk in the south.” O’Brien grinned, pushing his chair back so that the table didn't confine his ample girth.
“And how are you doing that?” Becker followed up.
“The current contractor, Webb Transport, is having all sorts of difficulties.” O’Brien laughed and his jowls jiggled. “Their drivers are blowing up engines, backing into loading docks and smashing rear tail lights not to say anything of delivering late and leaving retailers stranded. They’ll be lucky to survive, let alone be competitive with the current tender.”
“What’s it costin’ and what are we gettin’ out of it?” Borchard asked.
“About two million to our friends at the Transport Employees Union to ensure their drivers wreck Webb’s tractors and trailers. The contract’s worth a hundred mil and will add ten mil to the bottom line,” O’Brien replied.
“Good stuff,” Borchard said. “Well done, Harry.”
Murmured congratulations went around the board table before Becker asked Arthur Ridgeway if he had anything new to report.
“Nothing new, but as you know our spare parts business, Trailer Parts, has been incurring losses because it’s under severe pricing pressure from Superior Spares. I’ve got one of our people into Superior’s head office. He’s an accountant. We’ll soon have their price lists, costs and know where they’re buying their parts. If I find our suppliers have been supplying them at better prices than us, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“How long’s our spy been on the job?” Becker asked.
“Two weeks. It’ll be a month or so before we have anything. I told him to be careful. He’s no good to us if he gets caught,” Ridgeway said.
“I like it,” Borchard said. “I’ve got nothin’ new, but I’ll have something juicy to report at our next meeting. I can report that that fuckin’ weirdo, Frampton, is no longer a problem.”
“Did you have to kill him?” Ridgeway asked.
“Fuck, Arty, you were at the last meetin’ when I was told to fix the problem. Once he found out that he had incurable cancer there was nothin’ to stop him blowin’ the whistle. Do ya think he was still worried about us tellin’ the world he was a fuckin’ sicko? He was about to come outta the closet and confess that he’d been leakin’ inside information. Jeez, he only had six months to live.”
“I don’t like it,” Ridgeway said. “We’re not murderers.”
“Really? Dermott, why don’t ya tell Arty about Valerie Gibson?” Borchard said.
“Unfortunately the drugs have got her. It’s only a matter of time before she’s outed and then we won’t have any hold on her,” Becker replied. “She’ll soon blab to the SEC that she leaked inside information about her employer.”
“Yeah, she’s a crackhead,” Borchard said, “and when she’s outed she’s gonna sing like a canary.”
“You-you’re gonna kill her too?” Ridgeway said, shaking his head.
“We’re gonna give her one final shot.” Borchard smirked. “She’ll die happy.”
“It has to be done, Arthur,” Lydia Coe said. “If she talks, the SEC
Thomas Christopher Greene