A Very Corporate Affair book 3 (The Corporate series) (14 page)

Your devoted puppy

Ivan

I read it a couple of times before replying.

To: Ivan Porenski

From: Elle Reynolds

Date: July 8th 2013

Subject: yet again you're a tosser

Ivan

Exactly how many chances did you expect? Don't worry, I won't be buying that apartment, as I don't fancy being watched on the terrace with my new boyfriend.

As for 'Natalya' (if that's even her real name), do as you wish. You are a single man after all.

See you tomorrow at eight, as arranged.

Regards

Elle

I pressed 'send' with a flourish. I knew Ivan would go batshit crazy about my holiday with Oscar, but as he hadn't invited me to join him in August, I figured he couldn't really say anything. I closed my laptop, and had a look in the fridge, before making myself a slice of toast and a cup of tea.

Chapter 9

I met Paul and Ivan in Smollenskis the following morning, as arranged. Ivan seemed anxious, and rather nervy around me, and Paul was observing us both very closely. I handed Ivan the files containing everything that needed signing to set up the new umbrella company. I explained that there were enough directors already in place to go ahead, and begin trading under the new entity. I was pleased to hear that Ivan had decided to go with Gail Hayward as the finance director, rather than her American counterpart, who I really hadn't liked.

Paul listened as Ivan listed the skills that the board still needed, and agreed to search for one mining exec, and a non exec with an engineering background. By nine, we'd discussed everything we needed to, so I took my leave, and went back to my office. Ivan had looked as if he'd wanted to say something, but kept quiet, just saying that he'd see me later.

The day started off fairly quiet. Lots of colleagues were away, and activity on the mergers and acquisitions front had ground to a bit of a halt. I checked that all my time sheets and invoices were up to date, and read through a couple of cases regarding umbrella companies for conglomerates. Oscar called me at half eleven to say he'd booked a flight for Monday morning at eleven, and would pick me up from my flat at nine. It turned out we were going by private jet, so didn't have to schlep over to Gatwick. I gave him my account details, and called the estate agent to place an offer on the apartment, explaining that I was a cash buyer, and looking for a fast completion.

While I was waiting for the agent to call me back, I checked our internal staff lists to see if we had a specialist residential conveyancer. I could have done it myself at a push, but I wasn't an expert in that field, and someone who did that type of work regularly would be faster and more likely to spot issues. I discovered that one of Lucy's colleagues handled residential sales, and gave her a call.

"Claire Plant speaking."

"Hi, it's Elle Reynolds, I'm a friend of Lucy Elliot's, based over at Canary Wharf. I'm buying an apartment, and wondered if you could handle the purchase for me?"

"Hello Elle, yes of course I can. I take it you have a property in mind?"

"Yes, just waiting to hear if my offer's accepted. It's a leasehold though, 999 years, in a new block."

"Pretty straightforward. How quick do you need? Have you got anything to sell? And how are you financing the purchase?"

"As quick as poss please, nothing to sell, and I'm paying cash."

"Blimey, you corporates do get paid well. Lucy told me she's going to the law awards with you Saturday night, she's beyond excited. I had no hope of a ticket being in lowly residential conveyancing."

"Aw, I'm sure it will just be lots of smiling and clapping crusty old men. I must give Lucy a call regarding times and stuff. So how quickly can you get this purchase pushed through?"

"Depends totally on the other side, with leasehold it also comes down to how good the paperwork is for the management company, and if there are any ongoing issues. If everything is totally in order, about three weeks."

"That would be fantastic. I'm going on holiday next Monday, so can you try and organise anything I need to sign before that? I can deal with everything else by phone and email while I'm away."  She confirmed her email address, and we said goodbye. No sooner had I put the phone down, it rang again, this time the estate agent. My offer of 4.5 million had been accepted, subject to a 28 day exchange. I gave him Claire's details, confirmed all mine, and took the full address of the property, which I emailed to Claire as we spoke. Laura arrived with a cup of tea, just as I was punching the air in delight.

"You seem happy?" She enquired.

"Had my offer accepted on an apartment. This calls for a celebration I think. Are you free for lunch?" We ended up in the bistro, enjoying a lovely lunch, and toasting my new apartment with prosecco.

"Have you thought about how you'll do it up?" Laura asked.

I shook my head, "I only saw it last night. There's so many things I'll need to get. I live in rented at the moment, so I don't own a stick of furniture. There's a lot built in, but I need sofas, table and chairs, a bed, everything."

"That's so exciting, being able to buy everything from scratch. You'll be able to have it just as you want. Are you going modern, or traditional?"

"Modern. I want sectional sofas, the kitchen is open plan, and is glossy white, so I think pale, soft shades of cream, grey and taupe will work best. It's so exciting, I've never bought furniture before." My home in Welling had been furnished with mainly hand me downs from neighbours, and even a junk shop find was a big purchase. I thought of the two hundred thousand in my knicker drawer, and shivered with excitement.

Back in my office, I scanned through furniture websites, drooling over the myriad designs of settees available, when my phone rang. It was Oscar, and he sounded serious. "Elle, we have a problem. Someone from Barclays has told the press that they were manipulating the LIBOR rates, said they were pressured into it by their superiors. All hell's breaking loose. This could have massive implications for the banking system. Can you speak to Carey, and find out what the position is regarding actions that the Bank of England can take please?"

"Will do. I'll call you back in a bit." I trotted along the corridor to Mr Carey's office, and told him the problem. His eyes widened.

"This could have enormous consequences for the banks which are caught. They could be fined vast sums, or forced to pay compensation for the difference between what the rate was, and what it should have been. Depends how big a deal the press make of this really. He switched on the news. Straightaway, we saw reporters outside Barclays head office, hounding the CEO as he left the building. It was being portrayed that the banks had colluded to rip off the British people even more than they had over the bailout.

"Goldings didn't take a bailout during the crash did they?" I said.

"No. They had enough cash reserves to weather the storm, plus they didn't merge with any competitors which may have brought problems, like the Lloyds/HBOS debacle. I hope that publishing their figures every day exonerates them and deflects this problem quickly." Mr Carey called Oscar, and spoke to him, explaining the risks, and advising him what to do. I listened, impressed by what a wily old fox Mr Carey was.

They drafted a press release, stressing that Goldings operated under strict policies of integrity,  honesty, and prudence. They released their calculation of the rate every day on their website, alongside the official LIBOR rate, and were confident that all their procedures would stand up to the closest scrutiny. As a bank, they were in good shape, hadn't needed a taxpayer funded bailout, and operated the highest standards of corporate governance, overseen by independent lawyers.

After the call, I went back to my office. I checked the Reuters, and saw immediately that the CEOs of Barclays, Natwest, and Lloyds were under pressure. Goldings hadn't been mentioned. 

There were reporters outside the tower as I left that evening, and even some outside our flats. I made sure they couldn't see my code and gain access to the building, and hoped the other residents did the same. James had the telly on when I got home. He made a coffee as I watched various bank CEOs get hounded outside their premises. "This is a huge story, the press appear to be baying for blood," said James.

"I just hope it doesn't affect Oscar. It shouldn't, but who knows how these things are going to play out." I quickly called Oscar to let him know there were reporters outside. He groaned.

"This seems to be the press' latest plaything. They're like a dog with a bone. I released that press statement, and they don't seem to be baying for my blood at the moment. The other banks are having a much rougher ride than we are, mainly because of the anger over their bailouts."

"I'm home this evening if you need me. I'd suggest you don't give a comment if you're accosted."

"Poor Oscar, looks like he's going to have a rough few days," said James, nodding at the TV after I'd finished my call. The BBC commentator was calling for the banks to compensate their customers, sack their senior management, and basically nationalise the lot of them. James dished up some casserole, and I watched as Oscar was pounced on as he left the tower.

"What's it feel like to be the only honest banker in Britain?" Yelled a reporter.

"Are you disappointed in the behaviour of the other banks?" Shouted another.

"Will you be taking legal action against the other banks for rate fixing?"

I could see the astonishment on Oscar's face. They were not the questions he was expecting. "Gentlemen, I can't possibly comment until all the facts are known, and I trust the Bank of England to take any action that's appropriate. It's not my place to comment on other companies. I can only assure you that there has been no price fixing or manipulation at Goldings. Our integrity and honesty in our dealings are extremely important to both us, and our clients."

He strode away, presumably heading home. Ten minutes later he called me. "Was that on the news?"

"Yep. It came across very well. You looked and sounded sincere."

"I wasn't expecting all that 'most honest banker' stuff. Where did that come from?"

"Maybe the other banks tried to conceal, or refused to acknowledge the press anger. By being upfront, you may have diffused, or deflected it. I wouldn't relax yet though, a lot can happen over the next few days. On a happier note, my offer of 4.5 mil was accepted today."

"Well, that's a bit of good news isn't it? I put 5 mil in your account this afternoon, so you're good to go. I'm going to lay low, and keep quiet if I can over the next few days. Let all this blow over."

"Very wise. It really doesn't sound as though they're gunning for you at this stage, so let’s just hope it stays that way." I finished the call, and turned to James. "Where's Janine?"

"Out with a friend, she'll be back later. What was you on about when you said your offer of 4.5 mil was accepted?"

"I put an offer in on an apartment today, and it was accepted. It's about five minutes from here, on St Saviours dock. It's lovely."

"I'm pleased for you."
You don't look it.

With no work to do that evening, I decided to start working my way through all the clothes, trying them on, and separating them into piles for cleaning, alterations or taking into work. I started on the nearest box, pulling everything out onto my bed, and checking everything for stains and loose hems as I went. Most of the garments were still in dry cleaning covers, and looked pristine. There were some beautiful items, and I grudgingly admitted that the cow had good taste. The trousers seemed to fit me perfectly, and I deduced that, although she'd been taller, proportionally she must have had short legs. My alteration pile seemed to only contain long dresses, which were only about two inches too long. I was a bit ashamed that there were only two items in the 'take into work' pile, mainly because they were a bit big for me. I resolved to be a bit less greedy with the next box.

I heard a knock at the front door, and assumed it was Janine returning, so let James get it. I was standing in my room in my bra and knickers when Ivan walked in. Instinctively I tried to cover myself. "Don't bother, I've seen it all before," he snapped. I pulled on my robe.

"Hello Ivan, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Your phone. You're not answering. Yet again." I rummaged round in my bag, frowning.

"I hasn't rung this evening.." I pulled it out, and saw that it was on silent, and that I had ten missed calls from Ivan. "It was on silent," I muttered, "what did you want?"

"I wanted to discuss Natalya."

I sat down on the bed, "ok, go ahead."

"It wasn't how it looked. She's a private investigator. I commissioned her to do a job for me in Russia. She needed to see me urgently with some news."

"I see."

"I asked her to look into the circumstances of my parent's deaths, and a rumour that I heard as a child."

"And that made her all flirty with you?"

"She was just reacting the same as all women do, except you that is. She came to take a sample of my DNA, and tell me her findings so far."

"Which was?"

"Vlad's henchmen killed my parents Elle, I always wondered why the bastards didn't kill me as well, they could have done. Apparently they were under strict orders to ensure nothing happened to me."

I frowned, "why did Vlad do that, if he really was behind the murder of your parents?"

"That question has bugged me, well, at the time I didn't know Vlad was behind it, but I always wondered why I was spared. The man who took them away said dad was not my father."