Coffee (10 page)

He
paused to let it sink in. “Our fertilizers and growth
hormones were doing incredibly well. But that same success led to
another frustration. We were dismayed with the behavior of the
market price for the crops. When volumes rose, price dropped! It
turned out our own successes were undermining our profit, shooting
ourselves in the foot, if you will. We decided to do something
about it. We bought seats on the major food exchanges in Chicago
and New York, and began studying the market activity. We devised a
number of plans that improved our returns - when to come to market,
how much at what time, how to bid. Etc. Etc. Our clients’
profits increased. More and more major producers came to us. And
yes, sometimes, we even courted the edge of legality to bring more
profits - as you know from your auspicious research project.”

Etty
interrupted with nonchalance. “What’s the section over
here without any windows? Let me guess, that’s your little
guest house for visitors like me.”

“The
West Wing houses our Agricultural Research Center, or ‘ARC’.
Some of the floors have highly sensitive research going on.
Contaminants and such. In fact, this entire facility, from one end
to the other, has a controlled air system. Every cubic foot of air
of our ventilation enters up here, and all exhaust leaves here.”
He pointed to two large air vents on the roof alongside the base of
the dome. ”We can filter air going out to prevent atmospheric
contamination. As for windows, the most volatile research areas,
such as in ARC, do not have any for safety reasons. The last thing
we need is someone opening a window and letting out an epidemic.”

“Or
a prisoner taking a little late night stroll,” she said
indignantly.

“Yes,
Miss Bishop, if you must know. You were on the second floor where
we have some observation rooms for recovering patients. We placed
you there so you wouldn’t hurt yourself when you woke up.”

Etty
whipped around to face him. “Look. I’ll play along for
now. You brought me here, you must have something to say. Ask me
what you want. But you’ve got to know that my only mission is
to satisfy your curiosity and then get the hell out of here. I’m
not interested in your company or your fancy apartment - I want to
go home. I’m willing to keep everything that’s happened
completely confidential. Your tactics are reprehensible, but that’s
your issue, not mine. Let me go, Mr. McKinsey.” The urge to
scream, or even cry, welled up. She tried not to show fear, but
everything that had happened so far made it painfully clear that
they were in control, and dangerous. Although regretting it
immediately, she couldn’t resist a final plea. “Please.”

McKinsey
stepped back. “I see. Let’s have a seat.” He
pointed to a group of sofa chairs surrounding a colorful fused glass
sculpture, flattened on top for use as a small table. Etty obliged,
and walked to a chair, feeling relieved to have at least articulated
a coherent statement.

McKinsey
took an opposite seat, and entwined his fingers on his lap. “I
guess, Miss Bishop, we should start with the basics. Not on Global,
but let’s talk about you for a moment.”

“Me?
Sounds like your research team found out about all there is to
know.”

He
spoke in a fatherly tone. “What about your situation? Have
you thought about what you would go home to?”

“Every
minute.”

“Do
you think I was kidding when I told you of all the Securities
violations that would be in store for you?”

“Christ,
not that game again. I figured out all by myself that you are not
from the Government,” she snipped.

“No,
but I could well have been.” McKinsey spoke with soft
persuasiveness. “Do you think the Feds would take time to
investigate a multi-million dollar violation? I think so. You
already wrote the case file. Detail by detail. All they’d
have to do is haul you into court, and stamp a few papers. Everyone
who touched the case would be an instant hero. Hell, people would be
falling all over themselves to get a piece.”

“There’s
no violation in acting on a hunch.”

“Oh,
please, don’t be so naive. If by some chance without any
prior knowledge you happened to make a few bucks on a fraudulent
trade, maybe the courts would be lenient. But you? You did have
prior knowledge - you wrote it down. Even if you made 100 dollars,
with your reputation as a top finance student in Dartmouth’s
Doctoral Program, they’d come down hard. You spelled out your
specific intentions, executed them, and made
so much money
!
Come on!”

“And
besides, who are you accusing me? You are the ones who violated
Securities law, not me!”

“We
know this game. We’ve been at it for years. We have a fall
guy here at WIC who would go down with you. An insurance plan. If
the regulators charge us, we will be the first to jump up and admit
fault, holding a screaming trader by the ears behind us. We’d
pay the fine, he’d go down, but you and Sherman would go down
too. It’s that simple. A business transaction, nothing
more.”

“I’d
rather take my chances at home. It still beats this place.”

“Oh
does it. Let’s take a little inventory, shall we? Go home:
You’re ruined. Warren Sherman’s ruined. Dartmouth
college is ruined. Stay here: Fascinating career in one of the
largest finance companies in the world. Six figure salary. Minimum
living expenses. World travel. Power...”

“Okay,
so I stay. What’s to stop the Feds from charging me anyway?
The long arm of the law and all that, they’d get me here just
as easily as in Dartmouth.”

McKinsey
hesitated, but then responded with a new severity, “We’ve
taken care of all that. They won’t look for you anywhere,
ever.” A slight chill blew across his expression. Etty felt
a sudden rush of anxiety. There she sat, in the belly of the beast,
so far from safety, so alone. They stared at each other for a
moment, silently. Etty had so many more questions, but waited.

“Miss
Bishop, I have a proposition, a chance unlike any you’ve ever
imagined. But I want to do this right. If it’s one thing we
have now, it’s lots of time.” McKinsey stood and
returned to his elaborate, oddly shaped wooden desk, inlaid with
semi-precious stone designs. He picked up a folder, thick with
different sized papers. He also found a short, two page memorandum.
He held them out to her, signaling that she could come and take
them.

After
a quick scan of the memo contents, she said, “This is an
assignment! You want me to do research for you?”

“That’s
right. Research.”

“You’ve
got to be kidding. All this, and you want me to do a paper for
you?”

“This
isn’t just any paper. For one, there’s a fee. You do
this right, and we will pay you 10,000 dollars. And believe me,
that’s peanuts for what could come in the future.”

Etty
dropped down in a hard wooden chair facing McKinsey’s desk,
reeling from this - the latest in the long line of surprises.
“Research. Unbelievable.”

“We
have an important client, in fact a significant stockholder, who
would like a complete analysis done of his business. He is nearing
retirement, but he wants to make one last major investment in his
company’s future. He said to start with a clean slate -
anything’s fair game: Product line, organizational structure,
distribution, whatever.”

Etty
glanced at the company name on the memo.
Clorice Coffee!
McKinsey continued, “The client demands complete
confidentiality. Only I and the researcher - you - should know of
any aspect of the study. We need an extremely astute researcher,
one who can figure out the coffee business, and keep the utmost
secrecy. You’re perfect.”

“If
you think I know a lot about the coffee industry, you stole someone
else’s file. I purchased some options on coffee, that’s
it.”

“We
know. But you’re aggressive. You write well. We’ve
seen other papers, and we could not believe how succinctly you
captured the core of your thesis. Plus, you possess an independent
opinion - as fresh as new snow.”

“You’ve read my dissertation notes. Why am I not
surprised.” She shook her head, laughing slightly through her
nose. “Why me anyway? You’re the successful company
with hundreds of able employees. You know Brazil, the currency, the
finances. I mean my God, you have a seat on the coffee exchange,
and you have experts in agriculture right next door. How can I
compete with that?”

“Precisely.
We’re too close. We’ve been at it for too long,
especially with Clorice Coffee. John Clorice, the owner, was one of
our very first clients, and now is one of the three majority owners
of Global. This has to be different - exceptional. We want a new
perspective.”

“And
if he doesn’t like it?”

“Let’s
not worry about that. We have supreme confidence in you.”

An
image flashed through her mind of a review board shaking their heads
at her paper, and a group of guards dragging her off to be shot.

“You’ll
have access to our extensive research facilities here at WIC. And
whatever you can’t find, we will have down loaded onto our
mainframes.”

“I
need Internet access.”

“Sorry.
But, just about anything you need, we’ll have delivered. I
promise. This is a very important project for us. I will spare no
expense.”

“No
outside contact, I see,” she said.

“Think
it over. Take the papers and review the request. I have copies of
annual reports and a wide range of information in that file,
everything from personnel files of managers to details on each
plantation’s output and history. We’ll talk tomorrow
again. Okay?”

Etty
still couldn’t believe it. After kidnapping, incarceration,
humiliation, now a research assignment. McKinsey stepped around the
desk. “Let me arrange a tour of the Library, and I think
you’ll enjoy a quick look at the commodities trading floor.
It’s not active on Saturday’s - maybe a few traders
catching up on paperwork, but it might get you excited about Global.
After that, I’ll have Bart take you down the Rotunda for some
shopping and lunch. I’ll bet you’re hungry. As for
shopping, remember, you have an open account. Buy yourself anything
you want.” Etty stood. He looked down at her feet. “Shoes,
for instance.”

“I
don’t want that lug taking me anywhere. I want a new escort.”
Etty thought for a moment. “I want a woman. The last thing
I need is some drooling muscle head following me into a dressing
room.”

“I’ll
have it arranged.”

Etty
looked again at the model of the complex. She walked over and
peered in. “What’s the north wing?”

“That’s
our hospital. All profits from Global Growers funnel into it.”

Etty
scrunched her face. “Into a hospital?”

“You’re
a financial wizard. What better way to avoid taxes. A lot of
companies do it, filter profits into a non-profit, non taxed
subsidiary. Plus, it’s not all for tax reasons. Offering a
public hospital gave us points when negotiating Las Colinas as our
corporate headquarters. We also share resources between the
hospital and some aspects of our Agriculture Research. And, all of
our employees have direct access. Talk about managed health. Our
people pay nothing for medical coverage and it’s right here.”

Etty
noted the public parking lot available to Hospital visitors, and no
security fence.
A way out!
she thought.



McKinsey
delivered terse commands over the phone and hung up. He stepped up
to Etty, and spoke in soft tones. “Harriet. Trust me on this.
I know this is hard to fathom. Do the research. You still don’t
know a fraction of what we can do for you here. A world of
opportunity, a mountain of wealth. Do the research, and we can
talk.”

“You
want me to look for more market manipulation schemes? Is that what
this is all about?”

He
shook his head, almost incensed. “No, no! This is
legitimate. A real business analysis. It’s like a case study
for school, only you get paid.”

“I
refuse to devise illegal plots.”

“You
don’t need to, I mean you’re not supposed to.” He
bent down so his face was even closer to hers. His hands gestured.
“You can have a whole career here and only touch legitimate
projects. Big, profitable, International Finance related projects.
It’s a dream come true.”

“Exactly.
A nightmare.”

McKinsey
stood quickly, tired of the hard selling. “Do the research,
Miss Bishop. Do it well.”

“And
if you don’t like it, you simply dispose of me - no loss, no
risk.”

McKinsey
walked away from her, speaking with his back to her. “Do your
best, it will be fine.”

A
tall athletic woman pushed open the office door enough to catch eyes
with McKinsey. He nodded and she continued in.

“Harriet
Bishop, this is Marion Wells.” Marion held out a long arm.
Etty only gave it a perfunctory shake. Looking at Marion, McKinsey
explained, “Miss Bishop would like to buy some clothes and eat
lunch. Swing by the WIC Library and the Commodity Trading Floor on
the way.”

“Yes
sir,” Marion responded with a military clip in her voice.
McKinsey turned to Etty for a last comment. “Etty. I want
you to like it here. I want you to stay.” He shook her hand.
Etty had run out of things to say. She nodded, and the two women
left.



While
waiting for an elevator, Marion began her tour-like description.
“Mr. McKinsey would like me to show you the Library and the
Trading Desks. They are on the second and third floors. This is
the sixth floor, where our executives reside. We also have a board
room, an executive dining facility, and a backup security console.”