The Eden Effect Page 6

  ‘I’m Martin Fromm, and I don’t mind at all.’

  Arthur picked up his cup and headed back to the kitchen, sat down and tried to drink his coffee, which by now had cooled down and was barely drinkable. He could hear voices in the lounge. He could not hear what was being said, but intermittently heard Martin’s voice rising above the other voices. He thought Martin sounded excited or agitated. He hoped he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. Arthur made himself another cup of coffee, a hot one this time. He was half way through the cup when he heard Martin’s voice, very loud this time.

  ‘Arthur, could you come here, please?’

  Arthur put his cup down and hurried into the lounge room. The three men were sitting, on the coffee table was a black folder, opened. A few other official looking papers were strewn over the surface of the coffee table.

  ‘Sit down, Arthur,’ Martin said. ‘You need to be sitting down for this.’

  Arthur sat and waited. He had a bad feeling about what was to come. Martin turned to the two men.

  ‘Arthur is my friend and colleague, and he is also my accountant, so, I would like him to sit in on this meeting, if that is okay with you.’

  ‘No problem,’ both men replied in unison.

  His accountant, Arthur thought. First time I’ve heard of that. But he said nothing. Martin now addressed Arthur. ‘Let me give you the abridged version. Adrian and Austin can fill in the details later and answer any questions you might have.’

  Arthur waited. Martin continued. ‘It seems, Arthur that I have come into an inheritance.’

  Arthur felt a sense of relief. Martin was not in any trouble after all.

  ‘You recall me telling you about my father. The father I never knew. Well, it’s seems he knew me. Go figure, he kept track of me all those years. From afar. Never made contact. Anyway, he’s dead. Died in a plane crash, six months ago. His plane, he was the pilot. Bentley and Muir are his lawyers. It seems that my father, his name was Warwick, err.’

  ‘Warwick Preston,’ Adrian chimed in.

  ‘Yes, Warwick Preston. Well, he never married. Had no family and it turns out I am his only living relative.’

  Martin paused for a moment. He took a sip of coffee, which by now must have been stone cold and continued.

  ‘Now, pay attention, Arthur. The next bit will blow your mind. It did mine. My father, Warwick was into computer software. The boys here know all the details. Not important now. He built up his company from scratch. And twelve months ago sold it. He was fifty six and wanted to retire and travel the world, which was what he was doing when his plane ploughed into a side of mountain in Peru. He had a will, which named me as his sole beneficiary. Remember the business is sold and his assets are all in cash, which now, it seems is mine, or soon to be.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Martin. I’m sorry about your father dying, but I guess you never knew him anyway. At least he left you with something. Doesn’t quite make up for not being there for you, but still.’

  Arthur stopped. He could see a strange smile on Martin’s face.

  ‘That’s the kicker, Arthur. The ‘something’ as you call it, is a lot of something.’

  Arthur felt it would not be appropriate to ask, but he didn’t need to. Martin volunteered.

  ‘Are you ready for this, Arthur? The sum is eight billion dollars US. That’s billion with a ‘b’, Arthur. What do you think of that?’

  Arthur did not know what to think and didn’t know what to say. In his former life he was used to dealing with large sums of money, with wealthy clients. But eight billion U.S. He made a quick mental calculation that was just under nine billon Australian. That figure was right out of any ballpark Arthur had ever been in.

  ‘That’s a shitload of cash, Martin, if you pardon my French,’ Arthur blurted out. ‘Jesus, what are you going to do with all that?’

  Before Martin could reply, Adrian interjected. ‘Gentleman, I suggest that this information does not go beyond this room. Once all the paperwork is completed, the money will need to be transferred to your bank, Martin. You don’t mind if I call you Martin? I’m sure Eden is a lovely town. I know it has a bank, but if I could humbly suggest, I don’t think that the Eden branch or Bendigo Bank should be the destination of that money. For a start, the manager is likely to have a heart attack, and in a small town like this, the word would go out in no time.’

  Martin has not yet thought of the logistics of actually receiving all that money. He waited and Adrian continued.

  ‘Could I suggest a more appropriate bank? Our firm banks with Citibank, which as you know, is here in Australia, head office in Sydney. We have already made preliminary enquiries on your behalf and an account can be started for you there. It would be in complete confidence. Only the manager would be aware of it and you would deal directly with him. But please, Martin, that is a suggestion only. It is your money and you can bank it and deal with it, whatever you please.’

  ‘Thank you, Adrian. I appreciate your suggestion. I’m still trying to get my head around the whole thing. Can I have a day or two to think about it? I’m sure Citibank would be fine. Can I get back to you on that? By the way, are you guys staying in Australia, or heading back to the U.S?’

  ‘We thought we would spend two or three days in Melbourne before we go home,’ Adrian replied.

  ‘We are staying at the Westin. You can reach us there. All that remains to do is get a few signatures, Martin. Arthur, you can witness and then we’re done. And we’ll get out of your hair.’

  Austin pulled out a gold Cross pen, handed it to Martin. He signed in the three spots where Austin was indicating. Martin handed the pen to Arthur who witnessed where he was shown, and handed the pen back to Austin.

  ‘Here is your copy, Martin,’ said Austin. ‘Keep it in a safe place. We are done here. Thank you for the coffee. Remember, we are available to talk to you at any time. We would be happy to come back here if you needed us to.’

  The four men stood up, Martin and Arthur shook Adrian and Austin’s hands, intern, saw them to the front door, stood there as they got into the limo and drove off.

  ‘Arthur, I think this calls for something stronger than a coffee. I know it’s just noon, but have you got any of that single malt you are always going on about?’

  ‘Sure, Martin.’

  Arthur headed for his room and came back with a half full bottle of a 10-year-old Talisker. He took two glasses from the buffet and poured a generous measure of whisky into each.

  ‘Cheers, Martin,’ he said, raising his glass.

  Martin raised his, they clicked glasses and both downed the Talisker in two long gulps.

  ‘Arthur, consider yourself promoted. You are now my accountant. I can’t think of anyone I would trust more to advise me. Eight billion U.S, what’s that in Aussie dollars, Arthur?’

  ‘It’s about, nine billion, give or take a few million.’

  ‘What the fuck am I going to do with that much money, Arthur? What am I going to do with nine billion dollars? I wouldn’t know how to spend one million, let alone nine billion.’

  Martin’s voice was pleading. He looked genuinely distressed. Arthur did not reply immediately. After a pause he answered, slowly, deliberately.

  ‘With this much money, there is almost nothing you cannot buy. You could actually buy Eden, all of it. Lock, stock and barrel.’

  Martin did buy Eden. Not actually all of it and it was not Martin himself who did the buying. The money, 8 billion, 730 million was tucked away in a Citibank account which the lawyers had helped set up and which was in Martin’s sole control, although not in his name. Beyond that, Martin knew he was out of his depth. This is where Arthur came in. Newly promoted to the position of Martin’s accountant, Arthur Fromm, was back in his element. While Martin was out of his depth, Arthur felt right at home dealing with vast sums of money, although admittedly never before quite so vast.

  Arthur took charge. The disgraced partner of the prestigious firm of Lowe and Brown, accounta
nt to the wealthy was back in the game. His new position and the challenges ahead invigorated Arthur. He had not felt this good for over two years. With newfound zeal and determination, he set about his task. The project he was about to embark on could not be accomplished alone. He needed to bring in the big guns. And Arthur knew them all. In matters of the money and how to spend it, Martin had given him a free hand. To get in the talent he required he had to buy it. Arthur had a saying in the old days. Money talks. And if it talks loud enough, everyone will listen. No exceptions. He knew that to make things work he needed lawyers. One lawyer in particular. Robert Mackie, senior partner of Mackie and Sloan, Melbourne’s premier commercial legal firm. Arthur had dealt with Robert on quite a few occasions when he was back at Lowe and Brown, and there was no one better to coordinate and run the project. Arthur had known Robert personally as well as professionally and Robert Mackie was one of only a handful of people who actually sought Arthur out after his downfall and offered help.

  But Robert Mackie was in Melbourne, still running a multi-million dollar legal firm. Arthur doubted that Robert had even heard of Eden, let alone would he be prepared to move there for the twelve months that the undertaking required. But money did talk. Robert Mackie was initially surprised to hear from Arthur. He assumed when he received Arthur’s message to call him back that Arthur was after financial help. His initial surprise turned to disbelief when instead of asking for help, Arthur was actually offering him for a job. A job in some godforsaken Victorian country town, no less. Once he realised that Arthur was actually serious, his mind scrambled for a response that would not belittle or ridicule Arthur for whom he had a great deal of respect. But before he could frame his response, Arthur landed what was a knockout blow. One million dollars per week after tax and guaranteed for twelve months, even if he was not needed for the full twelve months. Fifty two million after tax dollars! That talk was loud enough, even for Robert Mackie.

  ‘I’ll do it, Arthur. I don’t know what you are getting me into exactly, but I’ll do it. I just hope that it’s legal.’

  Arthur, on the other end of the phone replied, ‘thanks Robert. I really appreciate it. I promise you won’t regret this. And Robert, you will need a team on this. I think three or four should do it. Pick your own people. Anyone you want. Tell them one million each after tax that should buy you some quality.’

  As it turned out, Robert decided only to bring two. One of the junior, but up and coming lawyers in the firm, Adam Chapel and Robert’s P.A, without whom Robert knew, he could not function. He arranged leave for the three of them from the firm. No one objected. Who would? Robert was the boss.

  The next issue for Arthur was suitable accommodation. He knew that Robert lived in five bedroom mansion in Toorak, complete with a swimming pool, tennis court and a five car garage. Such properties were in short supply in Eden. However, the local real estate agent, there was only one, solved the problem. He had on his books a four bedroom Victorian, a little run down, but nothing that minor decorating and repair could not solve. It was centrally located and quite spectacular internally. Behind the grime and peeling paint, there were all the magnificent original Victorian features. Arthur took out a twelve month lease, paying twenty percent more than the asking price. Jack Small, the agent, put Arthur onto a handyman who fortunately was available. The $100,000 that Arthur offered him for what would turn out to be two weeks work assured his availability. Eden had no appliance store or furniture store, so Arthur, by way of the Internet ordered a house full of modern furniture and appliances, all top of the range. He ordered desks, chairs and computers for what would be the office. He offered a hefty premium and all the items had arrived and were installed in ten days, the day after Ron the handyman, had completed his task of restoring the interior of the house.

  A week later the three of them had arrived. Robert, Adam the junior and Robert’s P.A, Megan, who was the most stunning redhead Arthur had ever seen. They drove up in three cars, one in each. Robert in a Series 7 BMW, Adam in a Lexus RX 350, and Megan in a red Lexus 250 convertible. She must be on a good wage, thought Arthur, when he saw the car. Arthur showed them through the house and was relieved that they were pleased with it, especially Robert. Arthur let them to settle in and arranged to return later in the afternoon for a briefing followed by dinner.

  Arthur returned to the dairy to bring Martin up to date and confirm the arrangement for later that afternoon. Martin would be accompanying Arthur, albeit reluctantly. He had left this phase of the project entirely to Arthur. Martin was not comfortable with high finance, but he knew he had to make an appearance. After all, it was his project and his money. For all they had spent so far, it’s hardly made a dent in the total sum, which was earning interest at Citibank at a faster rate than they could spend it.

  With all that was going on, Martin and Arthur continued their morning deliveries. Any appointments related to the project were scheduled in afternoon, although Arthur had to take the occasional morning off as he had done that day and Martin had to manage on his own. The good folk of Eden continued to receive their milk and assorted dairy products just as they had always done.

  At 4pm they went back to the house. Arthur did the introductions and could not fail to notice Martin’s eyes widening a little when he saw Megan. The five of them sat down at the boardroom table, which had been set up in a sitting room of the house, now the office. Martin felt that he had to say something.

  ‘I really appreciate you coming here to help out. I know it could not have been easy leaving your home and families. I don’t know how much Arthur has told you. I’ve come into a large inheritance. More money than I need or could spend in several lifetimes. I want to do something with the money that will actually matter. You may know that I’m the town’s milkman. I don’t have the education or the expertise to run a project like this. This is where Arthur comes in. I’ve given him a free hand. Arthur and the three of you will run things. Arthur knows exactly what I want to achieve and with your help, I hope it can be done.’

  No one spoke for a minute or two. Martin was sure that Robert and the two others were dying to ask just how large the inheritance was, but were too polite to do so.

  It was Arthur’s turn to speak. ‘The project has two phases. The first is acquisition phase. Martin and I have prepared a list of the assets to be purchased. This is where you come in, Robert. It will not be a simple task. As far as we know, none of the assets are actually for sale. This is where your negotiating skills will come into play. And be aware, that we are prepared to pay whatever it takes. I know it’s a cliché, but in this matter, money is literally no object.’

  Arthur stood across the table, three folders, one for each them.

  ‘It’s all in there. Every property, the names and contact details of the owners, and an approximate value of each. The valuations I’m not at all confident about. They are my approximations based on incomplete data, but it is the best we have got.’

  Arthur saw Robert leafing through the folder without comment. The other two had left their folders closed in front of them.

  ‘What is our time frame, Arthur?’ Robert asked.

  ‘The contract is for twelve months. How long for this phase?’

  ‘Six months should do it. Could be even less,’ Arthur replied.

  ‘We will need to set up an entity to do the buying. I assume you don’t want this in your name, Martin?’ Robert said.

  ‘No Robert. Definitely not. So far no one knows about any of this. Well, you three now do, but no one else in the town,’ Martin quickly replied.

  ‘I suggest we set up a foundation, Arthur. There could be tax advantages down the line. The Eden Foundation, how does that sound?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Arthur said and Martin just nodded.

  Megan began writing on the legal pad in front of her. Adam was typing on his iPad. No doubt they would be the ones doing the setting up.

  ‘We should have the foundation up and running in a week,’ said Robert.
‘This would give us some time to look into the various acquisition targets and we’ll then be ready to attack.’

  ‘Sounds good, Robert,’ Arthur said. ‘Let’s meet again when you are ready.’

  ‘It’s 5.30pm. I’ve booked dinner for 7pm. We’ll pick you up. It’s walking distance. It’s not Attica or Vue de Monde, Robert, but it is the best Eden has to offer. We will be back at ten to seven.’

  The five of them stood up, handshakes all round and Arthur and Martin left.

  ‘I thought that went well, Martin,’ Arthur said once they were outside. ‘Just wait until you see Robert in action. He is brilliant. You’ll see, we’ll get this thing done.’

  Dinner was at the Red Lion. Where else? The hotel had a small private function room that Martin had booked in advance. He spoke to the chef Marcel, who Martin knew well and informed him that he had important visitors coming and would he put on something special. Marcel assured him he would. Many years before, Marcel had worked in a Michelin starred restaurant in Paris. What he was doing in the Red Lion in Eden was anyone’s guess. To seal the deal, Martin slipped Marcel two crisp $100 bills, which Marcel pocketed.

  Marcel was true to his word. The meal he put on was actually quite magnificent. Everyone at the table was most impressed. Martin ordered the best and oldest red wine that the hotel had in its cellar. Martin bought the only bottle of Grange that they had. That alone set him back $1000.

  It was a convivial evening. There was no work talk. Martin had already found out a little about Robert from Arthur. Adam, it turned out was thirty three, married with twin boys aged three. He had finished at the top of his class at Melbourne University Law School, a fact that did not come from Adam, but rather from Robert, who made the announcement proudly. Megan, the P.A was not married, she informed them. She had a partner. No children. Her age was not mentioned. She looked to Arthur to be in her late twenties. The partner, as it turned out, was a woman, which led to both Arthur and Martin feeling disappointed. What a waste, they would both have said, but of course didn’t. Megan had been with the firm for four years, seemed to have a sharp mind and a very easy going manner. She laughed easily and seemed quite relaxed in the men’s company.