Twisted Love and Money Read online

  “I’d be a cash millionaire?” Peter latched on to this promise. It was beginning to sink into him that Crawford had repeated that he Peter could become a millionaire.

  “If your Dad continues,” Crawford continued persuasively, “then it will be a rocky road. If he sells out I will ensure that he at least gets a fair price. And you will get upfront money Peter. On conditions of course.”

  “What conditions?” Peter was incredulous but wanted to hear more.

  “It is very simple Peter. I recognize that you are the son and heir. I have sympathy with your position where whatever happens you will have to depend on your father’s good humour to give you independent wealth. If you support the AF position, subject to your being satisfied that we are fair in our dealings, I will see you all right.”

  “How can you do that?”

  “All big firms have a war chest for takeovers. The O’Byrne situation, as I see it, demands that AF take over O’Byrne’s in order to save the business. Take over at a fair price of course and with due respect to our long-term relationship. What we do is to strike a price, which allows for your position Peter, as ultimate heir to the business and we settle you up separately out of the war chest funds. We can then put in the management needed to save the business.”

  “Is it the only way to save the business?” Peter asked doubtfully.

  “Believe me it is. Now Peter, are you interested in a personal fortune in the millions range which you can touch while you are still young and healthy?”

  Peter laughed. He sensed he was being offered thirty pieces of silver. But he could not resist. “You would have to explain it very clearly to me Mr. Crawford. What do you mean for instance, by a fair price for O’Byrne’s.”

  “Peter, from where I look at it O’Byrne’s have put themselves into a position where they will be forced to operate at close to breakeven. If they take the publicity of a court case they will lose more business as the quality problem is aired. The problem is, how to value such a business?”

  “We made over twenty million last year, nearly thirty if I remember right,” Peter protested.

  “AF contributed in a large portion to that. Now you cannot expect AF to bid to buy and pay O’Byrne’s for their AF business. Only AF can restore that business by direct intervention. In the circumstances we cannot be expected to pay for the business we generate.”

  “Dad and Dorothy, my sister, they value the business in times profit at between a hundred million and two hundred and fifty million.”

  Crawford laughed. “Times no profit is nil value. Realism Peter. It seems O’Byrne’s have overreached their ability and imagination.”

  “What is your opinion Mr. Crawford?”

  Crawford smiled; time to put the offer on the table.

  “Peter, the asset base before borrowings would never justify more than sixty million Euro. And that assumes a going concern; otherwise it’s scrap value. Given the net assets after borrowing, there could be very little left in a downside situation such as O’Byrne’s are in. However there is recovery potential in the right hands and you do have good supplier contacts in Ireland. All in all I would say fifty million is a fair estimate of the value of the business.”

  “Dad would be very disappointed at a price like that.”

  “Because of the long-term association Peter, I will recognize the position with a further ten million. This ten million can either be on a confidential basis or declared.”

  Peter felt a rush of excitement. His hands trembled. Was he really being offered ten million, in sterling? Wow, this was big business.

  “However Peter,” Crawford continued. “Sixty million would be our absolute max. This in Euro as is your profit. Any amount the O’Byrne shareholders want over the sixty million would have to come out of your share from the war chest. We would have an extra five million in the war chest for you Peter. That means you could get five million cash offshore.”

  “For me personally?”

  “Plus whatever accrues to your trust fund, for your existing ten percent holding in the business. Do you understand?”

  “Eleven million.” Peter felt excited.

  “On a sixty million takeover this is not an unreasonable amount, young man. You would have cash in hand and you could use your funds in any way you saw fit.

  “And if my Dad wants more?”

  “The incentive for you is that you are personally guaranteed a share of a sixty million price plus a bonus of five million on completion. All adjustments paid confidentially in cash offshore. You will be asked to sign some papers naturally. Do you understand?”

  Peter could feel his head swim as he tried to work the figures.

  “Peter you can’t lose unless the price goes over sixty million. Over sixty million we would reconsider our position. Understood?”

  “And the arrangement about my share will remain highly confidential?”

  “Secret Peter, We will arrange a suitable letter of reassurance through the lawyers, but know one will know except me and you and the Lawyer,” Crawford said with a tight smile.

  Peter’s eyes were dancing. Then he came down with a bump.

  “Dad has very high expectations. He will never sell for fifty million or sixty. He would want to top a hundred million.”

  “Peter you have to earn your bonus. We have discussed a fair value for a company with greatly reduced profits. And we are talking about a company with a cash crisis. I really cannot do any more. If O’Byrne’s goes belly up, you and your family will get nothing. Not a brass farthing.”

  “Do you think that would happen?” Peter gulped.

  “I don’t know.”

  Crawford shrugged, an open honest shrug of a man with an open mind.

  “Peter of course O’Byrne’s may be able to struggle on. And then there could be a payday in ten or twenty years. But be aware Peter, I am talking money now. Now, cash money Peter. While you are still young and I also that assume your Dad is in health and can enjoy.”

  “A bird in the hand,” Peter said.

  “Two in the hand or uncertainty in the bush,” Crawford countered.

  Peter tensed, took a deep breath. “Done,” he said triumphantly, deciding.

  Crawford shook his hand with ceremony. “Now Peter we have to talk very seriously. We sign a secret agreement. You get fully briefed by AF people. I will organize it for you immediately, this morning. I have some very good guys on your case. They will take you through the seriousness of the position in relation to these quality problems. When you get back to Dublin you will have a book of evidence on the quality allegations. It is essential that you are convinced of the seriousness of the situation and consequently the fairness of the AF approach in making an offer to take over the business and sort it out. You will need to bring your Dad around to the idea that the situation forces him to sell as the best option.”

  “What about our backers, the Debenture holders, the pension funds and so on?”

  “No problem, Peter. Once they see that your Dad is getting out they will smell trouble and rush to join him. They will be happy to get most of their money back.”

  Peter put himself in Crawford’s hands. He was mesmerized by the thought that he personally could soon possess millions in cash. He could begin to live.

  Crawford assigned Peter to his team for the morning. When they brought him back at noon they had him convinced. He was persuaded that AF would freeze all balances due by them to O’Byrne’s and there would be no further business between the companies. Just litigation between the companies, with AF on the attack. AF was in a position to seriously damage the O’Byrne reputation with all their customers.

  His father had to sell, after the morning Peter was convinced. Otherwise it was a shambles. The fifty million was generous in a downside situation. And he would have eleven million if he played his cards well. And, after all, AF could not be expected to rescue O’Byrne’s for no cost.

  When the team brought him back Crawford listened to the feedb
ack from Peter and then let him go. Satisfied he turned to more pressing matters in the wide AF business.

  Chapter twenty-four

  Janet Simmons was in the lobby when Peter made his way out.

  “Peter, Peter,” she called, “what a surprise. How are you?”

  Peter had not seen her in the vast lobby and was walking, lost in thought, to the door. “Janet?” he said, surprised.

  “Peter, it’s wonderful to see you,” Janet leaned against him and they kissed. Her softness and her perfume overwhelmed his senses.

  “What are you doing here?” surprise and some anger came through in his voice.

  “Oh, well it’s confidential...” Janet looked down then back at Peter “I came and hoped to see Mr. Crawford,” she confided. “They have me cooling my heels in the Lobby. It appears the quality problem between AF and O’Byrne’s is very serious Peter. I have to file a report and I was going to ask for more time.”

  “To write up your report.” Peter was angry. “From our discussions Janet, I thought it was going to be a positive report?” His voice revealed his sense of betrayal.

  “It was Peter, until I got into shipping and classification. Frankly that end is a mess. I was hoping Crawford would give you more time to sort the area out. Apparently there have been systematic mis-deliveries. What should I do Peter?”

  Peter looked around. This confirmed his briefing upstairs. He put on his serious face. He addressed Janet in mature tones. “Janet, the game has moved on. Your report is only a part of a wider pattern of events. We need to talk.”

  “I have to wait for Crawford otherwise I may miss him.”

  “How about lunch Janet? Don’t worry about Crawford. I have his private number. Leo and I are close. Talk to me first Janet. We need to put our heads together.”

  Janet let Peter take her to lunch. She affected worry and concern but inside she was happy. Her assignment was to pump Peter and where better than at lunch, and to ensure that she reinforced his view that his father should sell.

  With Janet advising and the help of a taxi Peter took her to a good restaurant. Janet held his hand in the Taxi and Peter began to unwind. He loved how she smiled at him. Janet for her part was pleased to see that Peter was confident. She had worried that Crawford would take him apart. Crawford had a reputation for reducing strong men to tears and she was well aware that Peter was not strong. She wanted to protect him from harm while making the deal happen.

  “We will talk when we have a bit of privacy,” he had said and they made the taxi journey sitting closely together, intimate but with no conversation.

  Peter dropped the headwaiter twenty pounds to ensure they would get a suitable seating arrangement and Janet steered him to an alcove table where they would not be overheard in the busy restaurant.

  “Tell me what went on?” Janet asked excitedly when they were settled. “Was Crawford awful?”

  Peter took her hands in his, waved the hovering waiter away, saying, “give us ten minutes please”.

  They looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Janet,” Peter began. “Things have changed dramatically. At the end of this game I will be independent with millions in the bank.”

  Janet didn’t blink, “you will have to explain Peter?” she said with a smile, a shrug, and body language suggesting confusion.

  “I had a tough time with Crawford, but I hammered out a deal. He squealed a bit but he saw the way through. The answer that is AF has to take over O’Byrne’s and rescue our long-term association as trading partners. Crawford came to see that, but I insisted he would have to set a fair price. A price which I accept does not include future expectations, but rather reflects the current realities of the business.”

  “Peter you managed all that?” Janet was admiring. She knew what would have happened but she admired the way Peter could project ownership of the solution.

  “What will you do next?” she asked, hoping he would confirm that he would need to work on his Father.

  Peter stood up and noisily pushed his chair away. The waiter and wine waiter hovered, immediately concerned to serve, and some other diners stopped to observe what might be a developing drama. The headwaiter began to move in from his position near the entrance.

  With a flourish Peter went down on one knee, taking Janet’s hand and looking deeply into her somewhat amused eyes.

  “Janet,” he said, “if you let me I will marry you Janet. I love you.”

  There was a buzz in the restaurant and then silence as everyone watched.

  Janet felt a momentary panic but quickly recovered. She had had several proposals and countless propositions, but never in such a public way.

  She looked down at Peter. She saw his anxious soppy hopelessly in love eyes, his strong body, and it registered that whatever happened he would have several million.

  And he was great in bed. If he had one outstanding talent, it was his performance in bed. And he seemed to love her and she could make a lot out of him and she liked him. The warmth and tingle in her body told her that she desired him. In fact she had thought of little else since she and he had made love. She loved the way they did it together. She wanted more, lots more.

  “Marry me Janet,” Peter repeated and now his eyes were full of hope.

  “Yes dear, I’ll marry you. Now get up and order your lunch.”

  Peter called for Champagne and the mood in the restaurant lifted.

  They knew he had been accepted.

  Chapter twenty-five

  A gong reverberated through the ground floor of the house.

  But Ann-Marie did not need to be called. She flounced in.

  “I am not joining you people for dinner,” she announced.

  “Ann-Marie!” Michael began, his voice rising.

  “I have arranged to have dinner with Nana in the gatehouse. I warned cook in advance,” Ann-Marie interrupted calmly.

  “Very well… That’s all right Michael,” her mother interjected. “Someone has to keep an eye on Nana.”

  Ann-Marie smiled triumphantly and flounced out again.

  “You spoil her,” Dorothy said darkly.

  “Dinner,” Michael said and led Ann and Dorothy towards the dining room.

  Ann-Marie tripped lightly down the steps of the family house heading towards her old Nanny in the gatehouse. Dorothy’s dogs, spic and span, made to follow her but she commanded them to “Stay!”

  Obediently and lazily they flopped down on the porch.

  It was a warm evening and it was bright and the air was moist but not damp. The birds were in full voice in the trees lining the driveway their whistles and calls, mixing with the cooing of doves. Above it all the crows in the trees at the back of the house seemed to always be in the middle of a domestic argument forever crowing and wheeling about in the air, swooping in and out of their rookery in the tall trees. Their alarms filled in a background of sound, which became fainter as Ann-Marie proceeded down the driveway.

  As Ann-Marie neared the Gatehouse the noise of the crows became a distant background and it all seemed quiet and peaceful. A baby rabbit looked up in surprise as Ann-Marie came along and then scurried out of sight.

  “Hello Nana,” Ann-Marie called. Her Nana had seen her coming and had made her way to the front door of the gatehouse to greet her.

  “Hello child. Come in darling,”

  Nana Fleming was small and frail and she walked with the help of a stout stick. But her eyes were lively and her mind was full and clear and alert. She still very much enjoyed life, and especially when her favourite girl called.

  Ann-Marie fussed about her and helped her back in over the doorstep.

  “Set the table child,” Nana said sounding cross but not feeling it.

  Ann-Marie set the table. And ladled some of the soup Nana had prepared into two bowls.

  “This will be good for you,” Nana almost instructed, as she sat, careful not to lose her balance.

  “Did he really call?” Ann-Marie asked, her eyes
excited as she drank her soup.

  “Who?”

  “Who. You know. Seamus. You sent the under-gardener with a note.”

  “Note?”

  “Nana, stop it. I destroyed the note so that no one would find it.”

  Nana continued eating her soup, enjoying keeping Ann-Marie in suspense. She had a twinkle in her eye. “Pass the bread please, Ann-Marie.”

  “Nana!” Ann-Marie implored.

  “I don’t hold with it,” Nana said.

  “What?”

  “Strangers. Were you introduced? He looks a bit rough.”

  “He’s gorgeous”

  Nana smiled. “I’d have to agree with you there, a fine figure of a lad.”

  “Please Nana. What happened?”

  “This stranger called. Introduced himself as Seamus O’Donoghue and asked to see Ann-Marie.”

  “Yes?” Ann-Marie was all-agog. “What did you say?”

  “I said who?”

  “Who?”

  “And he said Ann-Marie, I dropped her home here.”

  “I said,” Nana continued after a mouthful of soup, “there is no one of that name lives here, no one of that name ever lived here.”