Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (3 page)

Felipe was essentially decent in Davide's assessment. He was a typical hard-charging American, who had made good at a young age in the hyper-competitive American commercial environment. The son of Mexican parents who had illegally migrated to the US they lived without formal residence papers. Felipe described them as constantly existing in a state of constant fear of being deported, despite having been in Texas for over thirty years and ignoring Felipe's birth, which meant he was a US citizen. This apparently protected his parents but meant they had not been happy when he accepted the Madrid post with ORS.

Felipe worked twelve hours or more a day. The trouble was that he expected everyone else to want to do the same. This was not quite how the Spanish work, nor was it Davide's preference. He was glad he was only a consultant to ORS and not an employee.

He sat with pen and notepad before him. Usually he preferred to think into his laptop. On this occasion, so woolly were his fears, he found using traditional methods on paper opening more doors as to how he might set out what he needed to say to Caterina – if ever offered the opportunity.

He was about to answer the doorbell when he heard Ángela step out of the kitchen. Shortly afterwards the unfamiliar sound of Australian-accented Spanish was plain to hear. Clearly Emilia was sharpening her Spanish.

He did not hear anything at all of Caterina. Perhaps only Emilia had returned.

There came a gentle knock on his door. He swivelled in his chair to find Caterina looking doubtful.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"I seem to remember you saying that once before ..." he began, before discovering himself blushing fiercely. He saw she was doing the same, though much more prettily. He hurried on: "Did you sleep well? Did you do whatever you needed when you went out? At least you managed to find your way back here."

Caterina smiled through her own discomfort. In a way it was heartening to see that Davide was similarly ill-at-ease. Might all not be ruined?

"We wanted to get SIM cards for our mobiles. We didn't realise how long this would take. It was my fault because I made the mistake of insisting we investigate several networks to see what was on offer. In the end, according to Emilia's analysis, it was cheaper to buy one pan-European plan to share between us. Into the bargain we got a large data allowance and a new generation of the latest toys." She held up a brand new Samsung smartphone. "Completing the paperwork took forever. Is it always so slow here? By the way, I did send you an SMS with both our numbers. Didn't you get it?"

Davide checked his phone. Caterina was right. He had been too intent on his papers.

"You'll also need the Wi-Fi password for the apartment."

Caterina nodded, saying, "Actually, I must confess ..."

Both coloured, remembering previous confessions in Rome. This was awful. Whatever either said seemed to bring back explicit associations guaranteed to embarrass.

"I woke in the middle of the night. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I used some software to crack the Wi-Fi code. I hope you don't mind. Using WEP makes it all too easy. I cracked another router as well, presumably next door or below."

She managed to combine looking sheepish and clever at the same time.

Davide smiled before answering, perhaps his first unselfconscious reaction to her since her arrival.

"That's fine. I would have given you the
piso's
password last night but you both seemed unable to concentrate on anything other than food, wine or sleep."

"I'm sorry, Davide. We were awful. The travel to and from Sydney is horrible and so drawn-out going through Dubai. Plus that second leg to Madrid was really, really uncomfortable. Will you forgive us?"

"You, I'm not sure about. Emilia, yes, but only because I hardly know her well enough to blame."

"What am I being forgiven for in my absence?" said Emilia walking in.

"For us treating Davide like shit when we arrived yesterday, and this morning, putting it bluntly."

"Yes, you're right, Caterina. I apologise, Davide. Can we take you out for dinner tonight to make amends?"

"Another time would be great. However, Ángela has been assembling a feast for this evening. Shall we indulge her? She loves it when I take advantage."

"I've already discovered that. She wouldn't stop talking about what she was preparing. But that's good for my Spanish. She's delightful and she obviously likes having you to mother."

"Okay. Let me finish off some things in here. Shall we get together in a couple of hours? Or is that too early, or even too late, for you two?"

"Sounds good to me," responded Emilia.

Caterina nodded, suddenly feeling sore about the way Emilia was taking over. Was this how it was going to continue?

Friday: Valencia

Marta walked into the Bar Borja, named for the family had originated some kilometres south of Valencia in the town of Gandia before becoming infamous as the Borgias, namely Pope Alexander VI and his notorious children Cesare and Lucrezia. It was a bar Marta liked because it was modern, well-lit and comfortable. What it did not have was particularly good service, at least not compared to Madrid.

This was one of the aspects of Valencia Marta found most tiresome. The city had the potential to be a future Barcelona, fashionable and by the sea if without the soaring mountains of its Catalan neighbour. What ruined Valencia's aspirations was its consistency of miserable customer service. This seemed to apply to everybody. Coming from the centre of Spain this had irritated her no end when she first arrived. Now she was accustomed to it, though still disliked it. At least the owner of the Bar Borja, when he was there, was courteous, which was notable for its rarity.

She looked around, despite expecting to be the first to arrive. Estefanía was almost invariably behind schedule. Indeed, she had a reputation for appearing long after any agreed time, not that Marta herself could afford to be late for such a successful client. She was surprised, therefore, to see a hand waving at her from a side table. Estefanía was on time for once, even early.

They exchanged greetings by kissing each other on both cheeks before Estefanía followed up with: "I bet you didn't expect to see me for another half an hour ... or more?"

She smiled as she spoke, which took years off a face that was beginning to reveal the strains of successfully running an ever-expanding business.

Marta was shocked by this open display of self-knowledge, though thinking about it, this was just like Estefanía: refreshing, direct, honest and without self-importance.

"You're right. I even brought my tablet to read, just in case you were held up."

"Very sensible of you, given what people say and the facts. What will you have?"

Estefanía gestured to a waiter hovering nearby.

"For me, I think a
vino blanco
."

"Good choice. What I just had was most refreshing. The same again for me too, please."

The waiter departed.

They chatted inconsequentially for a few minutes, covering the social bases, until Estefanía prompted Marta with, "So why did you want to see me? What's the urgency? At least, knowing your usual understated way, I assume it is urgent and not just a desire to spend time with me?"

Marta reddened a little. She was not used to such familiarity from Estefanía, which only made what she was going to have to say more difficult. She was uncertain where to start.

"Come on. It can't be that bad ... can it?"

"I'm not sure, Estefanía. Something odd has occurred. I'm uncertain what to do. But it does involve you, or at least FyP."

She took a deep breath.

"About a couple of months ago FyP received letters from a company called ORS, which stands for OverPayment Recovery Services, asking for repayment by FyP of various transactions it claimed reflected double payments or uncredited credit notes. These letters were forwarded by your accounting people to me as your 'special adviser'. ORS wrote each letter on behalf of three major customers of FyP."

Estefanía nodded when Marta named them.

"These claims dated from one to five years ago. In fact the biggest were from three, four and five years ago."

"So? I trust you resisted?" encouraged Estefanía.

"Yes, but that only produced letters more firmly asserting their accuracy and implicitly threatening to stop doing business with FyP unless FyP either paid or demonstrated that ORS had made a mistake."

"Ah. I see what you mean. Losing any one of those three customers wouldn't be good; losing all three would hurt big time."

"The difficulty is that ORS provides a detailed list of what it thinks is owing, right down to the invoice double payment and credit note details with dates. As far as I can make out it can only have obtained this information from each of those three customers.

"By the way, I undertook some research into ORS. The service it offers is to examine past Accounts Payables in large commercial organisations' to identify where there might be monies owed, which had been written off because the buying organisation had not realised these could be repaid. It does appear to be legitimate. It's American-owned, operates on a percentage of the refunds it obtains and enjoys some reputable multi-national clients."

After Marta named several, Estefanía said, "Again I ask, what's your problem, or mine?"

"In essence there are two problems. The first are the total amounts being asked for –"

"Which are?"

"For FyP it is, over the five years, around 840,000 euros. But that's not all. It's what these 840,000 euros relate to that may matter even more."

Marta stopped, acutely aware that she had Estefanía's full attention.

Estefanía said, "Repaying 840,000 euros would be very difficult, just as we are negotiating new long-term financing for FyP. That would be a horrific slap in the face for this year's FyP cash flow."

"I know."

"But you intimated there were other implications. What?"

"Most of these 840,000 euros were paid to me so that I could – how shall I put it? – lubricate both your political and some new business opportunities, if you remember?"

"Now I get you."

Estefanía went silent. This was unexpected, coming at a bad time for her. Normally she might have just written a personal cheque to try disposing of the problem quietly. After all, she was wealthy enough to do this. But her latest divorce was becoming messy and 'losing' as much as this from her personal accounts might raise a host of unwelcome questions from her soon-to-be ex-husband who was nothing if not greedy.

"I need to think. Would you mind if I went outside for a cigarette? I need one to help me order my thoughts before asking more questions and deciding what to do. No, no, no. You needn't accompany me. I'm sorry. You've taken me by surprise. Perhaps your tablet will be of use after all."

Estefanía's attempt to smile ended up more like a sad grimace. She left.

Marta winced internally. It was going to be a long evening and she had five more of these conversations to endure.

Friday: Madrid

The sun had long disappeared but the air was still warm enough to stay outside and be comfortable. With the lights on, the terrace offered a soft and agreeable evening atmosphere. After Ángela had served the food with plentiful good wine, Caterina, Emilia and Davide felt well-fed, well-watered and relaxed.

"Okay, Davide. Now we've small-talked and eaten, why did you send me that email? 'Currently in Madrid. Need you. Please come.' That was terse, even by your standards."

"And suggestive," leered Emilia, who was clearly beyond being just cheerful.

Caterina glared at her, not that it made any discernible difference.

"I'm sorry if the email caused confusion. I wasn't even sure if I should send it. I –"

"Why ever not?" interrupted Caterina.

"Let's talk about that another day. More important is your original question. I'm afraid the explanation may be long."

"Don't worry about that. Caterina and I speculated all the way from Sydney and were no wiser."

Emilia ignored another glare from Caterina. It was so easy to wind Caterina up about certain things. Davide, or something that he did, clearly belonged in that category. Emilia was becoming steadily more intrigued, especially as Caterina had kept so much about what had gone on in Rome tightly to herself. This bugged Emilia no end. After all, what were best friends for?

"I need to start back in Rome, but after Caterina left. The HolyPhone project continued as planned. I think Nelson was happy with what we did. Anyhow, all now appears to be working. There are much better controls and organisation of the financial arrangements, now handled through professionals. The Church is changing, possibly for the better, though that is a completely different topic.

Davide described how, as the end of the contract drew closer, he had begun putting out feelers for new work, principally in Europe and North America. Out of the blue he received an email via LinkedIn from someone called Felipe Garcia-Martín. Normally, he said, he didn't respond to such blind-contact approaches but Felipe came endorsed by an old business colleague in New England, plus he said he was based in Madrid. His profile revealed him as coming from Texas and running the Spanish subsidiary of a US company called OverPayment Recovery Services, Inc., or ORS.