Dust of the Land Page 9

He could not believe she was serious. ‘It’s a tough world out there with its own rules,’ he said. ‘Name me one woman who has made it to the top in industry, never mind in mining.’

  ‘I know one who will,’ she said.

  After that they had got on better.

  She picked up her phone. ‘Please ask him to come in.’

  She watched him as he closed the door carefully behind him: confidentiality might have been his middle name. She did not speak but gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. Owen sat down and crossed his legs.

  ‘A splendid party,’ he said. ‘Worthy of a special occasion –’

  There were times when flowery compliments worked with Bella but this was not one of them; she cut him off in mid-sentence. ‘You know this town better than anybody,’ she said.

  ‘I know a number of people,’ he agreed cautiously.

  ‘You have informers in many places.’

  Owen smiled deprecatingly. ‘Sources of information, perhaps.’

  ‘You obtain information from informers,’ she said impatiently. ‘Let’s not play games.’ She sat back in her chair, pointed two fingers at him like a shotgun and gave him the news with both barrels. Pow! Pow!

  ‘There will be reports in tomorrow’s international press questioning this group’s financial viability. The local media’s on to it, too. Deborah is already fielding dozens of phone calls.’

  Own was horrified by the news. He was a man who knew how to keep his thoughts hidden but after all these years Bella could read him like a paperback.

  ‘What is she saying to them?’

  A steely smile. ‘What I have told her to say.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘That ore shipments are proceeding as planned.’

  ‘And the rumours?’

  ‘That it is not our policy to comment on rumour.’

  ‘That sounds all right.’

  ‘I’ve told Martin Dexter to prepare a report giving projected tonnages under our existing contracts, delivery dates to the Baoshan smelters, anticipated profits on shipments. When I can get hold of him I shall ask Richard to give him a hand. Peace is doing the same regarding our stockpiled ore and the mineral reserves in the unmined areas. I’ve told them I must have both reports tonight.’

  Owen had taken out a pad and was writing notes with a gold pencil. ‘Where do I come in?’

  ‘I want you to vet both reports, consolidate them into one document and put them in the correct legal language. I shall need two versions: one showing the gross profit on each shipment, one excluding it. I shall need both documents from you by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Four copies of each. Every statement must be one hundred per cent correct, but I want no mention of the BradMin rail agreement.’

  Owen thought: It’s possible, if only just. ‘What do I do with the reports when they are finished?’

  ‘Give them to me.’

  She would need one copy for the bank, one for the Stock Exchange, one for herself and one spare. No others. No one to be informed. Everything to be kept absolutely confidential. She took a deep breath. She felt energised. Problems and challenges had always stimulated her; this one was no different. Nor had she finished with Owen.

  ‘You have what you call sources of information. We need to find out who started these rumours. Do you agree?’

  ‘We can try,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘I think we need to do better than try. We need to know. And soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘A week?’

  He was shocked. ‘That’s impossible!’

  ‘Let me help you. Who stands to gain from these stories?’

  ‘Depress the market, buy at a lower price… Anyone; I could give you a dozen names in Australia alone.’

  ‘And the timing?’

  He did not understand.

  Bella said: ‘Tomorrow we are scheduled to sign that rental agreement. Yes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And today someone starts these rumours? Owen, this isn’t some casual speculator looking for a quick buck. This is a plot to destroy me and my business.’

  ‘Surely not…’ His tone was indulgent.

  ‘I’ve told you before not to patronise me, Owen.’ Bella’s blue eyes assessed him icily. ‘You’d better read this.’ She handed him the bank’s letter.

  Owen read it, then stared at her. ‘That poses a problem.’

  ‘How do we stand legally? Halliburton’s known the situation for months.’

  ‘The fact that Halliburton was aware has no bearing on the terms of the loans.’

  ‘As I thought,’ Bella said. ‘They’ve given us seven days.’

  ‘I’ll speak to the bank. See if we can negotiate an extension –’

  ‘I doubt that’ll serve any purpose. There’s more involved here than what we owe them.’

  She told him of the warning shot Pete Bathurst had fired across her bows that afternoon. ‘He’s planning to spring something on us, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Without the railway all the China contracts will be at risk,’ Owen said.

  ‘And without them we’re finished. Exactly.’

  She debated whether to tell him about the next day’s meeting with the Chinese consul but decided to say nothing at this stage. She did not know what Mr Hong was planning to say to her. In any case, if Owen thought the future of the company was at stake it might motivate him to get his informants moving more quickly than he might do otherwise.

  ‘Now you see why we have to find out what’s going on. You said it could be anybody. That is not quite true, is it? Excluding you, me and the bank, there are seven people who know the fine details of what is happening. It has to be one of them.’

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘Peace, Richard and Su-Ying –’

  ‘Surely you don’t suspect your own family?’

  Her expression did not change. ‘Until they are cleared, their names are on the list. Outside the family it could be Deborah Smith; someone in BradMin; someone in the Chinese government; Martin Dexter; someone in your office.’

  That fired him up, as she had known it would.

  ‘You cannot possibly think –’

  ‘I think nothing. I suspect no one more than anyone else. But that leak has to have come from somewhere.’

  ‘What about Pete Bathurst?’

  ‘I have no doubt he’s involved. But he must have had inside information. That’s what I want you to find out: who on the list I’ve just given you has been talking.’

  ‘I’ll look into it right away,’ Owen said.

  ‘Meanwhile I’ll get my own spies on to it.’

  Owen looked affronted. Bella was always amused when people pretended a righteousness they did not possess. At least I am honest, she thought. With myself if no one else.

  ‘I’m not as mealy-mouthed as you, Owen. I don’t have sources of information; I have spies. Don’t look so shocked; years ago you told me it’s a tough world out there, with its own rules. I am playing by those rules. I intend to get to the bottom of this nonsense. And survive.’

  The power and determination in the blue eyes transfixed him.

  ‘I am sure you will,’ he agreed hastily.

  ‘One more thing. When you leave, you’ll probably find a media presence outside the gates. I want you to be friendly and relaxed with them. Tell them the rumours are without foundation. Say everything is going to plan.’

  ‘And that we anticipate no hiccups with the new rail agreement?’

  ‘Better not say that,’ Bella told him. ‘I have a hunch there may be.’

  The audience was at an end. Bella walked with him to the door of her office. Before he left she took his hand in both of hers and gave him the full benefit of her blue stare.

  ‘Owen, I’m relying on you.’

  She returned to her desk and eyed the closed door. And I’ll be checking up on you too, she thought. Don’t imagine I won’t.

  Deborah rang.

  ‘Gayl
e Hastings is here.’

  ‘Send her in.’

  Time to get her own spies to work. After that she would have another go at getting hold of Richard.

  Next morning Bella was in her office punctually at eight-thirty, but the consul was fifteen minutes late.

  Bella had expected it. Mr Hong was playing the game according to Chinese rules, and being late sent a message that he believed he had the upper hand in whatever discussions he had planned. It was also a reproof for having changed his proposed timetable in the first place. She used the time to review the reports Martin and Peace had handed her last night, then asked Deborah to send him in.

  Bella smiled cordially as she greeted him, hand outstretched. ‘Good to see you, Mr Hong. Please sit down.’

  She led him to two easy chairs placed on either side of an occasional table. They sat and smiled at each other. As always, Bella was wearing heels with a blue business suit, cut from a silky material that set off the colour of her eyes, though she had devoted more care than usual to her make-up. Mr Hong, neat and guarded, in his mid-forties, wore a double-breasted dark suit, white shirt and sober tie. His face gave nothing away; at the moment his smile was formal rather than warm, but Bella thought it was a good sign that he had agreed to meet her here, and at this hour.

  ‘May I offer you coffee? Or would you prefer tea?’

  ‘Coffee would be very agreeable.’

  Deborah brought in a silver pot, milk jug and cups on a circular tray that she placed on the table between them. There was a plate of biscuits. Bella poured and Mr Hong accepted his cup but declined a biscuit. They sat and sipped coffee, smiling politely at one another, neither giving anything away.

  ‘It is a little chilly this morning,’ Bella said.

  Mr Hong’s smile did not falter.

  ‘I apologise for asking you to come so early,’ she said. ‘Pressure of work, you understand.’

  ‘The coffee is excellent,’ Mr Hong said.

  ‘Thank you. It is very ordinary.’

  It was the best money could buy and both were aware of it. Mr Hong placed his empty cup on the tray.

  ‘My government has received advance notice of the reports in this morning’s foreign press,’ he said. ‘I am instructed to enquire whether there is any truth in them.’

  ‘None,’ Bella said.

  ‘Beijing will be relieved to hear it. Beijing, you understand, is concerned that the questions raised may be used to delay shipment of the ore.’

  ‘Not by us.’

  ‘If I may be forgiven for pointing this out, it is not your attitude with which Beijing is principally concerned.’

  ‘I cannot speak for others,’ Bella said.

  She remembered Richard’s warning: BradMin is not in the business of helping us deliver. What they really want is our ore and our contracts.

  ‘I am scheduled to sign the new railway agreement later today. Once that is done, I shall be in a position to continue delivering ore to the coast as at present. We have had no request for a delay,’ Bella said.

  Which was true, as far as it went.

  ‘It is important that supplies should not be disrupted on account of temporary inconvenience,’ Mr Hong said.

  ‘Very important,’ Bella agreed.

  ‘Delay could jeopardise my government’s arrangements with your company. The contracts contain a standard non-performance clause should delivery not be made in accordance with the agreed timetable.’

  ‘I am aware of the clause,’ Bella said.

  ‘I am therefore instructed to enquire what arrangements you have in place to circumvent such difficulties, should they arise.’

  This was getting tricky; Mr Hong obviously had sources of information better than hers.

  ‘I have no reason to suppose any difficulties will arise. In this connection I am having a report prepared that will set out all salient information regarding production levels and ore reserves. If you wish I shall let you have a copy.’

  ‘That will be most helpful. May I know your fall-back position if, contrary to your expectations, there should prove to be problems?’

  She had to decide whether or not to tell the truth. She did not hesitate. ‘There is no fall-back position.’

  ‘Thank you for your candour,’ said Mr Hong.

  ‘People say honesty is the best policy,’ Bella said.

  Although not one to which she had always subscribed.

  She thought Mr Hong’s smile might be a shade warmer than it had been before.

  ‘On the other hand,’ he said, ‘it is wise to have an alternative plan, in case of difficulties.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Bella agreed. ‘When it is possible.’

  ‘My government feels,’ said Hong, ‘that Mrs Tucker might care to consider another visit to Beijing. In order to explore what alternatives there may be.’

  Bella tried to conceal her surprise; she had not expected such a summons. Because a summons was what it was, despite the delicate wording.

  ‘Such a visit would need to be very soon,’ Bella said.

  ‘An embassy plane is flying to Beijing tomorrow.’

  ‘And would be able to take me and any company directors I wish to accompany me?’

  ‘It would be our pleasure.’

  ‘It may not be necessary, if things go according to plan this morning,’ Bella said.

  ‘As you say, there is that possibility.’

  He knows something I don’t, Bella thought. It was embarrassing; he made her feel like an amateur. Once this was sorted out, she would make it her business to upgrade her intelligence arrangements, which were clearly inadequate. Gayle Hastings was the best in her field and Bella already had one informant inside BradMin but what she needed was someone with technical knowledge.

  ‘I shall let you know about Beijing later this morning,’ she said.

  Yesterday Bella had left Owen Freeth to find his own way out; with Mr Hong she walked to the front door of the house and touched hands in what, with Mr Hong, passed for a handshake. She watched him go down the steps. A uniformed chauffeur opened the rear door of the gleaming black Mercedes. Hong climbed in and did not look back. She watched him drive away and returned to her office, summoning Deborah on the way.

  ‘Phone Richard and Peace and say I want to see them right away.’

  ‘To Beijing?’ Richard stared at her. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It means the Chinese think we are going to have problems with BradMin.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think they’re right. Bathurst implied as much yesterday.’

  ‘But going to Beijing…’

  ‘Of course you won’t go,’ said Peace.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘To jump just because they say so? They would see it as a sign of weakness.’

  ‘Without the railway we have nothing.’

  ‘It’s all agreed –’

  ‘But not signed.’

  Peace looked mutinous, no doubt remembering their recent disagreement.

  Bella looked at Richard. ‘And you?’

  ‘I said it before. Bathurst will do us down if he can.’

  And at the moment was doing a good job of it, Bella thought. ‘And Beijing?’

  ‘Without the railway you’ll have problems. Without China you’re finished. You’ve no choice. You must go.’

  ‘Weakness?’

  ‘They might interpret it as strength.’

  ‘To jump when they say jump?’ Peace was derisive.

  ‘To be willing to hear what they have to say. Sun Tzu said –’

  ‘Spare us,’ Peace said.

  ‘They are Chinese. We need to think as they do.’

  Bella thought briefly and made up her mind. ‘If today’s meeting with BradMin fails, I shall tell Mr Hong we accept his invitation.’

  ‘We?’ Peace said.

  ‘Richard and Su-Ying will come with me –’

  ‘Leaving me to guard the fort,’ Peace said.

  ‘Because
you do it so well. I shall need Richard if we start talking figures. And Su-Ying because of her Mandarin.’

  ‘And her father,’ Richard said. ‘Deng Xiao-ping rules China and my father-in-law is his protégé.’

  ‘Maybe because of him, too,’ Bella said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘We’ve got her, by God,’ Pete Bathurst said, rubbing hands like shovels through his red hair. He stared around his palatial office on the twentieth floor of BradMin House, its walls decorated with aerial photos of the mine workings he had been involved in during his career. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’

  He was a giant of a man: fifty-five years old and six feet six in his socks, and his shoulders threatened to jam in every door he went through. He was accompanied by the two men he privately called his merinos. They were his senior executives, both polishing their asses on the chairs around BradMin’s boardroom table, both of them suits who would not know an open-cut mine if they fell into one.

  He looked at them now; company treasurer Amos Bellamy and legal counsel Sinclair Smythe. Their natural habitat is here, Pete thought contemptuously, on the executive floor surrounded by papers and files and deferential assistants, their only skill a political agility that has enabled them to climb as high as they have. BradMin for them was made up solely of financial statements and legal opinions, budgets, cash-flow projections, head office returns… No modern business could survive without the pen-pushers, but in his heart Pete despised them and all they represented.

  His background was as different from theirs as they were different physically; he had started in mining as a fetch-and-carry boy in a blasting team on the floor of a huge open-cut working in Colorado; he had been no stranger to dust, flying stone and the ear-numbing crash of explosives. No stranger to fists and oaths, either. He had learnt to hit back, and the men he had hit had generally stayed down. Old man Bradford Gulliver had picked him out and put him through college at company expense, and he had emerged with degrees in both mining engineering and business administration, his feet set firmly on the promotion trail.

  He had made enemies; this was a tough business and needed tough and ruthless men to run it. Pete Bathurst qualified on both counts. Success had brought him here in his early thirties, to the chief executive’s office in BradMin’s Australasian headquarters, but he had never forgotten his hard-drinking, hard-swearing beginnings and liked to think of himself as a wolf surrounded by sheep which knew to do his bidding, no questions asked.