The Two Sisters of Borneo (7 page)

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Visser. I’m not sure if I’ll come to the meeting tomorrow or not. I’ll probably wait until the morning to decide.”

“I’ll be there regardless, and if you aren’t, chances are I’ll be alone.”

What a mess,
Ava thought. Worse, it was a mess she felt virtually powerless to do anything about. If everything Visser had told her was true — and she couldn’t think of any reason why the bankruptcy trustee would lie to her — then her coming to Amsterdam had been a complete waste of time and money.

She looked down at the few notes she had taken. In the past she had seized goods in lieu of money as she tried to get her clients’ money back. She had then proceeded to do exactly what Meijer Finance had done. She had paid off warehouses so they couldn’t block access to the goods. She had identified any other creditors who might be lurking and bought them off too if it was necessary. And finally she had sold the goods at prices designed to salvage the money her clients were owed, with no concern for their real market value. Meijer’s behaviour was understandable. Not that it made it any easier to accept.

She stared at the phone number Visser had given her for Johann Meijer and then picked up the phone.

“Meijer,” a woman said.

“Yes, I’m calling about some furniture I understand you’re selling.”

“Furniture?”

“Yes, I’m told you’re disposing of some inventory.”

“This is Meijer Finance Company. We don’t sell furniture.”

“I know that isn’t your main business, but I’ve been told you’ve repossessed some furniture and are selling it to recover funds.”

“Just a moment,” the woman said, her voice filled with doubt.

Ava waited. Had Visser lied to her?

“You need to call another number,” the woman said when she came back on the line.

“Pardon?”

“You need to call a man named Jan de Groot. I’ll give you his number,” she said.

“This Mr. de Groot, he’s selling the furniture?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Who tells you?”

“My boss.”

“Can I speak to your boss?”

“Just a moment,” she said again.

Ava looked at the papers strewn across her desk. Why did the name de Groot seem familiar? She flipped several pages until she came to the list of creditors. Across the top of the page was the heading
ALL CREDITORS IN THE CASE OF THE BANKRUPTCY OF JANSSEN VOLKER,
and underneath it were the names of the officers and directors of the firm. A Jan de Groot was identified as managing director.

“My boss says he can’t help you. It’s better for you to call Jan de Groot. He’s the one who’s responsible.”

“Is this the Jan de Groot who ran Janssen Volker?”

“How would I know?”

“Then let me speak to someone who does.”

“I’m sorry, no one else is available.”

“You said your boss was there.”

“He just left.”

Ava drew a deep breath and then ate the angry retort that hovered on her tongue. “Thank you,” she said.

She stared at Jan de Groot’s name in her notebook.
How weird is this?
Ava thought as she dialled the number the woman had given her. The phone rang four times, and she was ready to leave a voice message when she heard, “de Groot.”

“Is this Jan de Groot?”

“The same.”

“I was given your name by Meijer Finance. I understand you’re selling some furniture that they repossessed.”

“So?”

“I have an interest in it.”

“I don’t recognize your voice.”

“We’ve never spoken. My name is Ava Lee.”

“And your accent isn’t Dutch or English. Are you American?”

“Canadian.”

“I still don’t know you.”

“You would have no reason to.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I’m interested in meeting with you with a view to buying some of the furniture you’re selling.”

“No,” de Groot said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The furniture has either been sold or is committed to another party.”

“If we could meet and I had a chance to go over the inventory with you, who knows, I might be able to make a better offer.”

“Not interested.”

“Surely Meijer Finance might be if there’s more money at stake.”

“Then call Meijer. If they tell me I have to meet with you, then I’ll think about it.”

“I find your attitude rather surprising,” she said.

“Look, I was told to sell the furniture as quickly as I could. That’s what I’ve done. It’s all sold or committed to. I’m not going back on my word to the people who have bought it.”

“What about the other creditors? I know the furniture is part of a bankruptcy and that Meijer is a secured creditor, but don’t you feel any obligation to maximize the return from the sales? Don’t you think the other creditors should be given some consideration?”

“I was hired by Meijer.”

“Yes, but you were also managing director of the company that went under. You bear at least part of the responsibility for leaving the other creditors in a difficult situation.”

De Groot went quiet. Ava expected the line to go dead. Instead she could hear paper rustling. “What did you say your name was?” he asked.

“Ava Lee.”

“You’re an officer of that company that bought into Borneo Furniture,” he said.

“I am.”

“Fuck off,” he said.

This can’t be legal
, she thought. Surely the secured creditor can’t hire the bankrupt company to dispose of its own inventory. She called Patrick Visser.

The receptionist made her wait again, and after close to five minutes Ava began to think he wasn’t going to take her call. But he did, and the words “Ms. Lee” were hardly out of his mouth when she said, “Did you know that Jan de Groot is selling off his own inventory?”

“You sound upset.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sighed. “The inventory is technically and legally in the possession of Meijer Finance. They are disposing of it as best they can. In this case, not being experts in the furniture trade, they have engaged the services of someone who is, and who has an intimate knowledge of the inventory and where it might best be sold. It is a convenient and efficient arrangement and, Ms. Lee, one of which I was aware and that is not uncommon.”

“When you say ‘engaged,’ do you mean that Janssen Volker is getting paid to do this? Because if they are, shouldn’t that money flow back to you for dispersal to other creditors?”

She heard a longer, deeper sigh. “Janssen Volker is no more. My understanding is that Meijer has hired Mr. de Groot as an independent contractor. He’s working, I’m told, on a commission basis.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t think it was particularly relevant who was selling the furniture.”

Ava could feel bile rising from her stomach. She had been away five months from the stress and anger that her business sometimes generated. Now it was back, and she wished it didn’t seem so familiar. “This sounds to me like a ‘let’s screw over the foreigners’ kind of deal, with you and Meijer and Janssen taking turns.”

“Ms. Lee, I resent that accusation.”

“I really don’t care.”

“As I said to you earlier, Meijer is perfectly within its legal rights to do what it has done, including paying Jan de Groot a commission to turn that inventory into cash,” he said. “There’s a creditors’ meeting tomorrow morning; you know the time and place. You’re welcome to attend to ask any questions you wish and to present any opinions you have. Until then, I really don’t think there’s any value in our continuing this conversation.”

“And I don’t think there’s any reason for me to attend that meeting.”

“The choice is yours.”

Ava sat at the desk, looking at names and phone numbers that amounted to exactly zero progress.

She walked over to the window again. Whatever thoughts she might have had about going out for a run, even a brisk walk, were immediately dashed by the sight of what she was now beginning to think was perpetual driving rain.

She shuffled back to the computer and looked up her hotel’s location and then those of the Timmerman and Meijer offices. The trustee was virtually around the corner. Meijer was no more than ten blocks away. She debated the merits of visiting either of them. The trustee would probably — and maybe rightfully — tell her to come back tomorrow for the meeting. If Meijer wasn’t willing to take her phone call, why would he see her in person? Besides, even if they did see her and agreed to talk to her, what exactly could she say that would make any difference to the situation?

I don’t have enough information
, she thought. Without thinking, she went over to the nightstand and took out a local phonebook. She started to look at it and then stopped short — it was in Dutch. Of course it was in Dutch, and she didn’t read Dutch. She put the book under her arm and left the room.

The concierge was, Ava guessed, in his mid-forties. He stood a sturdy six feet, with a full head of silver hair. He didn’t seem to understand her request the first time she made it.

“The police station is near the railway station,” he said.

“No, I’m not looking for that kind of detective,” she said. “I want to hire a private detective, someone who can gather some financial information for me. Could you look in this phonebook for me and find the proper section?”

“What should I look under?”

“Private investigators?”

He muttered something in Dutch and riffled through the pages.

“Here are some,” he said. “Most of them seem to specialize in cheating spouses, divorces, insurance scams. They also seem to be ex-policemen. What appeals to you?”

“Is there anyone who even mentions the word
business
?”

“This one,” he said, pointing to the name
Smits
. “He even mentions he worked for the Dutch tax administration department.”

“Could you write down his name, address, and phone number for me?”

“Sure,” he said, writing the name ‘Jacob Smits’ and his contact information on hotel stationery.

She called the detective when she got back to her room. A loud, gruff voice answered the phone with a torrent of words. The only one she understood was
Smits
.

“Do you speak English?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank goodness. For a second I thought I would have to get the concierge to translate.”

“Concierge?”

“I’m visiting Amsterdam and I’m staying at the Dylan Hotel.”

“How did you locate me?”

“The concierge found you in the phonebook.”

“Ah.”

“He told me you’ve done some work with the Dutch tax administration.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Chased after tax evaders.”

“I see.”

“And then I spent three years with the
KLPD
in Amsterdam, investigating white-collar crime.”

“
KLPD
?”

“The regional police force.”

“So you have a financial as well as an enforcement background?”

“I’m an accountant. The only police work I did was from behind a desk, working on a computer and going through bank and company statements.”

“It sounds like you are exactly what I need.”

“To do what?”

“My business finds itself caught up in bankruptcy proceedings that look to me like a put-up job. I need to understand the real financials of a couple of Dutch companies, and I want to know if there’s more of a relationship between them than what’s being represented. Is this something you feel you could deliver?”

He paused. “You said these are Dutch companies?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, just the opposite.”

“Then why the hesitation?”

“My rate is five hundred euros a day.”

“Plus expenses?”

“There are hardly ever any expenses, unless I have to travel out of the city.”

“So when can you start?”

“I have a few other things I’m working on right now.”

“Well, I’m here in Amsterdam right now and I don’t have a lot of time to spare. Is it possible we could meet today to talk this over and see if you can fit us into your schedule?”

“Yes, I think that’s possible.”

“Are you available now?”

“You’re staying at the Dylan?”

“Yes.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Ava Lee.”

“Well, Ms. Lee, there’s a pub called the Melancholy Miller two streets from your hotel. I can meet you there around six.”

“No sooner?” Ava said, the thought of a drawn-out afternoon having no appeal.

“No.”

“Okay, then six will have to do. How will I recognize you?”

“I’ll be wearing a brown suit.”

Ava called downstairs to the concierge. “How close is the Rijksmuseum?” she asked.

“You can walk there in less than ten minutes.”

“In this weather?”

“I have umbrellas here — very good umbrellas.”

“Put one aside for me,” she said.

Ava had visited the museum on her previous trip to Amsterdam. She had spent almost an hour staring at Rembrandt’s
The Night Watch
before being hustled from the building at closing time. She figured this time she would be able to see more of Rembrandt’s work and also catch the Vermeers and Van Dycks.

She checked her watch. It was just past seven o’clock in the evening in Borneo. May Ling had to be finished with the lawyer by now. Ava phoned her.

“Yes,” May answered. Ava could hear the sound of clattering dishes in the background.

“It’s Ava.”

“I was going to call you in a little while. I’m having dinner with the sisters and Amanda.”

“I got your emails.”

“Good. So you’re safely in Amsterdam?”

“Yes, and I’ve had phone conversations with all of the interested parties here — the trustee, Meijer Finance, and the charming Jan de Groot from Janssen Volker.”

“How did it go?”

“Badly.”

“How bad?”

“Meijer has our furniture, de Groot is selling it for them, and the trustee says there is nothing he can do to prevent it.”

“De Groot? How is that possible? They let the thief sell his stolen goods?”

“According to the trustee it isn’t uncommon and it’s within the law.”

“That is bad.”

“Anyway, I still plan on going to the bankruptcy meeting tomorrow, but I’m not hopeful it will make any difference.”

“Is there nothing you can do?”

“I’m going to hire a private detective.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know enough about anyone. I want to see what he can dig up.”

“Sounds like a fishing expedition.”

“It is.”

“The same is true here, except that . . .” May paused. “Just a minute, let me move outside. It’s very noisy here.”

When May came back on the line, the noise level was probably greater.

“What was that about?” Ava asked.

“The sisters. I didn’t want to talk in any detail in front of them. They were very reluctant, especially Ah-Pei, to agree to pursue their brothers legally. They’re afraid that it’s going to cause a schism in the family. And, just as bad, bring public embarrassment to the family. This is a very small community, and all the Chinese businesspeople know each other. They don’t want to look like fools, and they don’t want their brothers to be thought of as thieves.”

“Even if they are?”

“Who knows if they are or not? The one thing I can tell you is that this lawyer is as aggressive as anyone I’ve ever met. Even before Amanda, Chi-Tze, and I left, he had his people working on the paperwork. He intends to serve Mamat and Tambi with a lawsuit as early as tomorrow.”

“What inspired that response?”

“Money. I promised him a lot of money.”

“And just what is he suing them for?”

“He’s accusing them of accepting illegal commissions and is going after them for the entire sum of the Janssen contract.”

“Based on what facts?”

“None. It’s all supposition on his part, but he said he knows the brothers personally. He began to denigrate them so harshly I almost asked Chi-Tze to leave his office.”

“But the women do know about the lawsuit.”

“Of course. They just aren’t happy about it and don’t want to know the details.”

“What does Amanda say?”

“As far as she’s concerned, anything is fair. All she cares about is getting any part of our money back.”

“And the lawyer actually thinks that’s possible?”

“He started reading the contract they signed with the Dutch firm and said ‘illegal commissions’ before he even finished.”

“Why was he so sure about that?” Ava asked.

“As I said, he knows Mamat and Tambi and he thinks they’ve always been a bit off-colour. Also, according to him, illegal commissions and other side deals are standard ways of doing business in Borneo. And, Ava, he isn’t just suing them. He’s sending a copy of the lawsuit to the brothers’ banks, telling them what we’re doing and advising them that he will be seeking full access to records of any money transfers in or out of their accounts from offshore accounts over the past five years, and putting them on notice that no large withdrawals should take place until these legal issues are resolved.”

“What makes the lawyer think the bank will co-operate?”

“His brother is Superintendent of Financial Institutions for Sabah.”

“Wheels within wheels.”

“Big Chinese wheels within big Chinese wheels.”

“Well, I’m not dealing with Chinese here.”

“You’ll manage.”

“I wish I was so sure. I’ve been worrying about Uncle since I arrived and, truthfully, I was also upset for Amanda.”

“I told you, Amanda is fine.”

“I should speak to her.”

“She said she’s going to call you when she gets back to our hotel.”

“Okay, but remind her that I’m seven hours behind you. It’s only early afternoon here, so any time in the next three or four hours is fine. After that I’m meeting with the detective.”

“I’m going to bed early tonight, and then tomorrow morning I have another session with the lawyer before he does anything official. Once that’s finalized, I’m heading back to Wuhan and leaving things here in Amanda’s care.”

“How about the money the business needs? You said it was about five million.”

“I have it organized to send tomorrow. I was waiting to make sure you agree.”

“Do we have any choice?”

“Not if we want to make sure the business remains viable.”

“Then send it.”

Ava stood up and stretched. She could feel tension rippling through her body. The events in Borneo and Amsterdam were nothing she wasn’t used to, but this time she wasn’t doing a job for a stranger. And she wasn’t in pursuit alone, with Uncle hovering in the background ready to lend whatever aid she needed.

“Go back to your dinner,” she said to May. “I’ll email you when I finish with the detective.”