Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (6 page)

With Pastor Nieves' ascension Isidoro had expected to be asked to resign, if not fired. Yet, at a meeting soon after his formal confirmation as prime minister, Pastor Nieves had demanded in formal yet cold terms that Isidoro remain in post until at least the next elections. He explained he knew Isidoro and he were not ideological soul mates and never would be. Yet Pastor Nieves played the continuity card to perfection.

Accepting that he had little choice, Isidoro soon regretted his acquiescence, even if it was really for the sake of Hernando. Gradually he saw that he was becoming a keepsake, with Pastor Nieves working round him while paying lip service in public to his importance as
Jefe de Gabinete
. It was maddening, just what he did not need at a time when Consolación and the children needed what her name embraced.

He cursed his feebleness. If only he had refused he could be sitting in some comfortable minor ministry doing something more rewarding for people, with far nicer colleagues, rather than mollycoddling Pastor Nieves and his cronies.

CHAPTER FOUR

Not so Simple

Tuesday: Alcobendas, on the outskirts of Madrid

Felipe waited impatiently. His conversation the previous day with Davide had gone much as he had expected. He found Davide a mix of useful and irritating. Useful, because he clearly understood Spain and how it worked, or didn't work, better than he himself did. Irritating, because he was so tiresomely English and European. Fuzzy yet polite perhaps summed it up best.

Felipe was used to quick clean decisions based on hard rational business grounds. If there was a net dollar to be made here or saved there it was only common sense to take those actions that reeled in that buck. People with similar training to Felipe expected employees to work hard for their employer because this would ultimately benefit both. If the company flourished so did its employees.

So far as he could make out this was not so in Spain. The Spanish mentality seemed to be that work was merely a necessity in order to earn a living, and little more. Yes, there were individuals who were exceptions, but not many in his admittedly limited experience. Employees turned up so that they would be paid, not because they wished their employer and thus themselves to do better. From what Davide was teaching him, this had a historical justification, at least in a past when owner-employers took the rewards and signally failed to share them with their employees.

The difficulty was that this made his job of promoting ORS much more challenging. In some senses he had been lucky that his bosses in the US had introduced him to two willing clients before he arrived. Afterwards he and Davide had worked hard to bring in the third. But the business reality was that his Iberian operation needed at least another two to three clients this year to be viable long-term, followed by an additional couple of new ones each year thereafter.

Furthermore, success assumed that the ORS expectation, of a 0.1 per cent recovery rates, which it had proved it could achieve in the US, was repeatable in Spain. So far, after several months of operations, the recovery percentage was disappointingly lower, at around half the expected rate. Compounding his frustration was that the analyses from the existing three clients indicated that the actual recovery rate should be double or even triple the US rate. But the monies were simply not trickling in as had happened in Texas when he was learning his ORS trade.

Davide's suggestion of introducing his Australian colleague intrigued him. Davide would not discuss exactly what had happened in Rome but his recommendation to Felipe about this Caterina was of the highest order. She must be special. Davide had given her the bulk of the credit for making the breakthrough in Rome, though Felipe's own contacts said the real insights had originated with Davide.

As for the other Australian lady he was unclear. He could understand the applicability of forensic accounting but was uncertain what this might add to the formidable experience of the recovery specialists ORS already employed, people with deep knowledge of the bizarre purchasing practises that most large organisations possess. He would just have to wait to see.

He let his mind wander to the previous Saturday. It had been agreeable. Meeting single people like himself in Madrid was unexpectedly hard. He had resorted to the Internet and Meetup to find a fitness gathering in the main Madrid park, namely the Retiro. There he found himself part of an eclectic group in their twenties and thirties, almost entirely non-Spanish and mostly female. They had welcomed him with open arms, though many seemed to be married or already engaged. Yet there were two whom he rather fancied. He had expectations for the next Meetup fitness class scheduled for later in the week. It was good to exercise with others. Jogging alone all the time became depressing.

He heard voices speaking in English, two of them with what he guessed must be Australian accents. If he was honest he couldn't tell the difference between British English and South African or Australian or even Canadian English. He was better at differentiating a Texan from a Bostonian, or a Californian.

There was a knock on his door.

Davide ushered in two ladies, one tallish and slender, the other shorter and, on first appearances, much less striking. Davide introduced the former as Caterina and the latter as Emilia. Felipe invited all to join him around the small conference table in the corner of his office, asking if they would like something to drink.

Davide declined. Caterina wanted water, while Emilia requested a Diet Coke. Felipe left his office to ask Ana to bring these, plus an instant decaf coffee for himself.

He returned, saying, "The refreshments should be here in a moment. Should we begin? Where do you want to start, Davide?"

"As we discussed yesterday, Felipe; Caterina and Emilia are making themselves available over the next couple of weeks or so. If you will provide them with desks and access to the data, plus some processing capabilities, they'll start looking. What I have also told them is that ORS will pay them a small daily fee, which will increase if they find anything that assists ORS to improve its recovery rates."

Davide turned to address Caterina and Emilia: "Does that accurately cover what we discussed yesterday?"

"Yes," answered Caterina.

"When can we start?" demanded Emilia.

She was already intrigued by Felipe. For one he was not especially tall and for another he appeared to be in in his late twenties. He was young for this level of responsibility. Perfect.

From the corner of her eye she noticed Caterina watching her, though whether this was with suspicion or relief was unclear. Emilia could think of a justification for each.

The door to Felipe's office opened. In came a tall lady with spiky short hair and a severe jaw carrying their drinks. She looked to be in her mid- or late twenties, similar to Felipe, and was attractive in well-cut jeans and crisp blouse. Emilia immediately glanced at Felipe. This was followed by an inspection of the newcomer's fingers. Her left hand was adorned with decorative jewellery but her right wore what looked to be a slim band of gold. This was very confusing. She had read that in Spain it could be either hand that wore engagement or wedding rings.

"This is Ana, my assistant," said Felipe. "She works long mornings and manages to keep me organised. If you need anything, she is the 'go-to' person. I couldn't cope without her.

Tuesday: Castellón

After leaving Maite, who had behaved even worse than she had expected, Marta had thought to herself, "Who needs clients like this?" Somewhat shell-shocked by Maite's treatment she had taken a break for a couple of hours before driving to meet Luis, 'El Cerámico', at his main factory site outside Castellón.

The drive there from Valencia had been pleasant and Marta had indulged in some detailed introspection about what had passed after leaving Inocenta. Saturday afternoon really had been a time to luxuriate in her sensuality, wonderfully aided and abetted by Salvador, who in this particular instance was definitely her saviour.

That he was almost a decade younger gave an extra zest to their fun. He was charming and with some wealth, albeit with a wife who was totally consumed with child-rearing – there were already six and she was pregnant again – which enhanced her pleasures further. The only thing that discomforted was that she really ought to go back on the pill. This was something to ponder. Chemical contraception carried dangers at her age. Yet condoms carried risks: one had broken on Saturday. He was clearly super-fertile and, though she had never conceived, it was still not impossible. She needed to do something. The consequences of falling pregnant now would be a colossal inconvenience, not least trying to explain it to her dull husband. Even he might be suspicious given that they rarely even slept in the same bed and that her thirties had been spent valiantly (in his mind) trying to produce an heir when the lack of success turned out to be his own infertility.

She drove through El Cerámico's main factory gates, waved past by the security people, who had either recognised her car or Luis had forewarned them. After parking in a guest spot she was shown to the executive floor.

She hadn't needed to wait long before Luis came out in person to greet her and usher her into his disarmingly modest office. He might be in his late seventies and in control of one of the larger manufacturing operations in eastern Spain with ever increasing sales around the world, but he had never felt the need, since she had known him, to parade his wealth, competitiveness or self-importance. What a contrast with Maite. His personal aura was sufficient to impress.

Luis greeted her affectionately, with his usual eye twinkle and an almost reverent stare down her front. Even at his age the lecher was still apparent. In some ways Marta loved such candid yet polite admiration from afar. He ushered her to a chair beside his simple desk.

After a few moments of small talk about families and odd mutual friends he had come, as was his custom, directly to the point: "While it is always good to see you, Marta, you must have something on your mind to have pushed for an urgent appointment. Usually such imperatives mean bad business. So what is it?"

Marta repeated her story for the fourth time. Luis listened in silence. Once she'd finished he opened with, to her mind, an unlikely question. It was not about the rights or wrongs or even the amounts involved.

Instead it was: "Which companies are asking?"

At least this was straightforward.

"The biggest amounts are from Constructores Equilibris and ServiArquitectos with a relatively small amount from MMH."

"I could have guessed. Those bastards. You'll remember, Marta, Constructores ordered vast amounts of fitments for their barren cities on the plains outside Madrid, only to cancel the orders overnight with no warning. Similarly, ServiArquitectos did pretty much the same after its grandiose plans for covering as much of Spain in concrete as possible came crashing down with
'la crisis'
." He paused. "How much do they want back?"

"For CE, about four million euros; for ServiArquitectos, about two million, while for MMH a little under half a million."

"Well, Marta, let me tell you what you are going to do – absolutely nothing. I mean it." He shuffled in his chair. "I dealt with them in good faith, offering generous discounts and reasonable payment terms. Yet still they demanded more. Reluctantly I accepted their orders. Then they cancelled. Their orders were worth, if I remember right, at least seven to eight million for already manufactured products that we now had to scramble to find new overseas buyers, which was only possible at knockdown prices. And this still left another ten million of scheduled production orders to evaporate." Again he moved position. "I simply do not care. At my age I shouldn't have to put up with such treatment as a valued supplier. Just tell them to piss off and be damned! I repeat: I simply don't care. They can't cause me any harm."

"But Luis, aren't you forgetting something?"

"You mean our little double counting and the monies you redistributed for me?"

"Exactly."

"It's no skin of this elderly nose. You obtained the monies from my firm and you made the payments. The business and I are in the clear. You handled everything, both discreetly and elegantly if I may say so."

"But ... that won't stop this ORS coming after your business."

"Listen to me, Marta. I don't care. I'm almost seventy-nine. What is some pinprick of an American company going to do to me? It'll spend years in court and, like everyone else in Spain, get nowhere. I am Luis Zavala. I'm beyond their reach because I'll probably be dead before our courts can ever get round to deciding anything. I suggest you simply ignore them. Don't come back to me ever again about this issue. As for any threats to reduce spending with me, those are empty, because they buy so little nowadays."

"But the amounts claimed are large, more than sufficient justification for ORS to continue. It receives a percentage of what they obtain back. They have the motive to persist. 30 per cent of six million-plus provides quite some incentive."

Luis' eyes flared, which was not easy when they were rheumy with age.