Twisted Love and Money Read online

  “Morning Janet. Sit at the coffee table. I’ll come across and join you in a minute.”

  Janet smiled and went and sat on one of the soft chairs at the coffee table. She put her file on the ceramic top of the low coffee table and waited expectantly.

  Crawford watched her every move through hooded eyes and bushy eyebrows. He was a short thickset man with double chin and a receding hairline. There was symmetry between his bald crown and his double chin, and his lips, thick and rubbery, sat under a large nose. He pursed his lips as she sat down.

  Janet was wearing a suit with a tight skirt that came to just above her knees when she sat. The jacket of the suit was open and he could see the white of her bra against the white of her blouse as her full breasts strained against the straps that held them firmly in place.

  Janet sank into the couch, tried to cross her legs but found it uncomfortable in the deep seats and sat back.

  “Take off your jacket and relax,” Crawford suggested, glancing towards her, “I just have to finish these papers for signature and then I’ll be with you.”

  Janet smiled agreeably, she was most anxious he took her report on board.

  Crawford pretended not to notice her. He was long sighted and only needed his glasses for reading. These were gold-framed half glasses, which he perched at the end of his nose, downwards towards the papers. He would let her sit a few minutes while he went through the post and signed a few documents. Every now and then he would look at her over the top of the glasses. She was laying out her report, a frown on her pretty face as she reminded herself of the figures. Crawford was conscious of her every move, his senses alert to every slight movement of her legs, every twist of her soft curvaceous body against her respectable restraining clothes.

  Had she dressed as a tart she would not have attracted him. But her beauty held in sober steadfast office clothes moved him. To his mind there was a freshness about her, as a fresh ripe un-plucked fruit.

  She stretched one of her long legs straight and pressed it with her hand and then drew it back again. The move appeared to be unconscious, relieving the uncomfortable position in the over-soft chair and she was still concentrated on her papers. He felt a warm tightness and then a knot tightened in his stomach as she looked up and caught his eye. He smiled.

  “Won’t be a minute,” and wrote on one of the memos in front of him. Internally his excitement rose. Another minute, and then he would go and sit in front of her.

  Then she had her papers ready. He seemed to anticipate her, putting down his pen and looking up.

  “Would you like a coffee Janet?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  “Help yourself. The percolator is full of fresh coffee behind the bar. Don’t mind me I have just had one.”

  He watched her struggle out of the soft couch. God, she was a beauty. Worth every penny he paid her, well the company paid her, just for looking at.

  “Now pet,” he said standing up “Let’s get down to business.”

  “Call me Janet. Pet is sexist Mr. Crawford.”

  “Sorry, Janet it is,” he apologized.

  Of course she did not know she was his pet, twenty-six, a Chartered Accountant and recruited out of the London School of Economics, bursting with brains and beauty. He knew she would have settled for half the salary he had offered her. But when he saw her at a company offsite conference he knew he just had to get her, so he had made up a special role and doubled her salary. His present to himself, after all, he had worked in acquisitions for his company since he was twenty-five. Now that he was the Managing Director there was no harm to his way of thinking, in the odd luxury. A pet.

  “Janet I’m glad you have finished your first special assignment. I have read your report carefully.”

  Janet beamed; she knew in her heart her report was good. And she had worked long hours on it.

  “You are aware” Crawford continued, “that I have to handle about seven thousand acquisition proposals a year. That makes about thirty a day. These come in from the Companies themselves, from bankers, brokers, outsiders and lawyers. When you have a high profile like ours people think… If you want to flog a business, write to Crawford…”

  Janet smiled in appreciation. Crawford was as ugly as sin but he was a power in the City of London.

  “Now” Crawford went on, warming to his topic. “Of those seven thousand proposals, and in a good year it could be ten thousand, my team may, after screening, investigate about two hundred. And then we would successfully complete not more than say ten deals in a year out of all that. Of course much of the deals will not make the papers because they are private deals.”

  “I see” Janet said, for the want of something to say. She sipped her coffee and watched respectfully. She was uncomfortable under his gaze. He had piercing eyes and she was afraid he could read her feelings. Also, he kept looking at her legs.

  He was such a dynamic and powerful man in the Company. The way he was staring, the conviction with which he spoke, and the bulge in his pants, Jesus, she thought, Crawford has had a hard on just talking about takeovers. What commitment.

  She moved her legs slightly and watched his eyes. Well, it was either takeovers or her legs. The soft couch made her bottom sink and her legs were towards him at an angle or forty-five degrees. She wondered how far up her skirt he could see. She leaned forward and rested the coffee mug and her hands on her knees.

  “I’m saying this,” Crawford continued, “to point out that any proposal, even one from you Janet, has to stand up to a lot of testing before it can run.”

  “I understand that Sir. You had said that you were less than satisfied by external sources and you felt that in house research might yield a few winners. You gave me that project as a ninety-day study. I have reviewed about five hundred options. These I have narrowed down to one. It is a winner Mr. Crawford.”

  Crawford smiled in reply, “ I like your spirit Janet. Take me through your proposal.”

  Janet leaned forward excitedly over her project papers. She really did not need to refer to them; she knew their contents off by heart.

  “The potential rewards in this area are vast,” Janet began. “I am talking about the organic foods sector.”

  “Come on Janet. Organic foods are only a small percentage of the business in our Supermarket division. From memory, about two percent of fresh food, a niche market, Janet the bigger our company gets the bigger becomes its appetite for takeovers. We have to produce every year, year in year out, up to ten percent growth on the previous year to keep our share rating up on the stock exchange. Small fish are no use to us. We must take over substantial businesses with growth potential.”

  “Mr. Crawford, niche market it may well be, but consumers are paying significant premiums and this augers well for large scale production. I have done my sums Mr. Crawford. Let me take you through the report.”

  She moved forward to the edge of the couch. She had brought two copies of the report and a file of glossy high quality slides. Crawford moved closer to the table and put his glasses on the end of his nose. Yes definitely, he had decided, she was wearing black pants. No way she had nothing on.

  Janet began to take him through her presentation in detail. Despite himself Crawford began to take an interest. He felt a warming in his blood. This was more than just a pretty face; his pet was a bloody good analyst. At a point their hands brushed together. It happened again. She appeared not to notice. She was very interested and very task orientated and her task was to explain the fruits of her hard work to Crawford. She was concentrated on making her presentation in a firm knowledgeable way.

  However Janet sensed the intensity of Crawford’s interest and was inwardly repulsed, but simultaneously drawn. He was a powerful man. She felt an excitement and a tension that she was succeeding in attracting him.

  Janet desperately wanted to impress him. She had worked very hard on her project and this was a moment of truth. She tried to ignore her unease and get on with the presentati
on.

  Now she felt self-conscious. She had the feeling that Crawford was trying to look up her skirt. This was what she had come to expect, having sat on the couch on a number of occasions during previous mentoring sessions. Nothing else had developed, other than the scrutiny of his piercing eyes. Nonetheless her knees came closer together. None of this showed in her face as she came to the end of her presentation. She sensed he was hooked, that he desired her, but only because she seemed fresh and unattainable. She knew she had to manage his expectations.

  “What is the bottom line Janet? What is the target?” He spoke calmly, but was staring at her as she sipped her coffee.

  “This is the exciting part Mr. Crawford. I have analyzed our supplier accounts. We have a high growth company in our net. One of our largest suppliers of both fresh foods and organic foods is an Irish company called O’Byrne Foods.”

  “So?” Crawford said, forgetting Janet’s knees and looking her in the eye.

  “They grow internally and also through some very judicious acquisitions which they have fitted into their core business.”

  “Good.” For Crawford this comment was a sign he was becoming interested and Janet pressed home.

  “They have a track record of consistently high growth, nearly thirty percent per annum for the past five years.”

  “Is it for sale?”

  “No. The word is that they would like to go public in a few years time. They could hit a hundred million in profits if they continue to grow for a further five years.”

  “Well, can they do it?” Crawford sounded sceptical.

  “Again my information is that a number of Banks, Insurance Companies and Pension Funds and business venture houses are sniffing around offering to back their acquisition programmes. In return for a share of the action and ultimately a public quote, I would presume.”

  “They will never keep up that growth rate.”

  “Yes Mr. Crawford, you may be right. However I would wager that they would easily beat our target of ten percent per annum.”

  “What is their management like?” he asked, changing tack.

  “Like any small company that is doing well, they are very competent. Good marketing team. But being small as you would expect they are thin on the top with about three key managers. Rumour is that they are looking for an experienced financial man to back up the current FD who is the boss’s daughter.”

  “O.K. Janet let’s say I am interested. How do we hit them?”

  Janet smiled, unsure, had she made a sale? Crawford sensed this. He could not resist the opportunity. He patted her knee. She had no stockings on and the momentary pat sent a shiver of excitement up his arm.

  “Well done Janet, a fine research job.”

  “I need your guidance Mr. Crawford.”

  Crawford smiled. “That is what I like to hear. A youngster who realizes she has a lot to learn. Good basic research Simmons. Now tell me how could we hit them?”

  “We give them a lot of business Mr. Crawford.”

  “What? If we put up their profits the acquisition price will also go up. What purchase price do you think we are talking here? A range of five to ten times profits?”

  “That’s right Mr. Crawford. Of course as a private unquoted company we would not really go over five times profits, that is one hundred and fifty million but we have to be aware they are growing fast and are seeking a market quotation.”

  “And Simmons are you suggesting we give them more business?”

  “O’Byrne’s are expanding very fast. They are stretched financially as a consequence. Margins in the fresh food end are very low compared to turnover.”

  “So we build up their account, the amount we owe them, through giving them business with our Supermarket Divisions,” Crawford interjected, beginning to catch on.

  “Yes.”

  Janet smiled; pleased he was coming on to her wavelength. “Then we delay payments, maybe one or two months. If we get it right they may become overstretched financially. Their bankers are bound to be jumpy. If we can create a crisis the banks may move in to protect their loans.”

  “A receiver?”

  “That would be ideal. Then we could buy the lot very cheaply as a going concern from the receiver. We would have to have a climate where it seemed O’Byrne’s were in trouble and their growth days were over. In those circumstances the price might be as low as fifty or sixty million.”

  “Very good Janet,” Crawford said, pleased at how Machiavellian his young protégé could be.

  “Thank you, Mr. Crawford.”

  “You are a wicked girl, wicked Janet,” he remonstrated with a chuckle. “Janet you are well aware that what you are proposing is highly illegal. We can’t, as a major customer of a company, put them into receivership on a pretext and then buy them out. There are all sorts of fair trading regulations against that sort of thing.”

  “Unfortunately Mr. Crawford, the line of approach I am suggesting has risks but the prize is in millions and as through our Supermarket Division, we are in fact a major customer of O’Byrne’s we are uniquely placed to take advantage. My view is that they will not sell out to a reasonable offer. Either we go after them or we have to forget them.”

  Crawford considered. “We would need to find out when they are at their most vulnerable. When are they going to be most exposed?”

  “No problem,” Janet said optimistically, “we just have to find out what they are up to. Then suck them in with a promise of orders from us. Get them to commit forward and then pull the plug.”

  “It is your problem now Simmons.” Crawford smiled. “I will organize the trap from this end. I will get our buyers in the Supermarket end busy as discussed. However our plan must be secret. Only those on the team who need to know. The Supermarket Divisions will be kept in the dark as to our true intentions. This plan must never make the public arena. Also I will contact the O’Byrne backers quietly. See what I can find out. You Simmons have got to be my legman.”

  “Leg man?” Janet stretched out a long leg and looked at it with raised eyebrows. Crawford stared and resisted the impulse to fall to his knees and lick the extended limb. Janet watched his reaction, not showing her feeling of triumph.

  “I work on a sudden death principle,” Crawford explained, feeling his collar. “If I like a proposal I set the scene.”

  “Scene?”

  “Yes. You are fired Janet.”

  “What, but…” Janet began to protest. She was shocked to the core, thinking how could she have got it so wrong, but then Crawford continued, enjoying her confusion.

  “You have to go freelance Janet. You are proposing an approach, which is illegal. But I like it. You catch the fish you get a big reward. Fail and we don’t know you.”

  “Big reward?” Janet had heard rumours about Crawford’s style. How he used hit squads to make acquisitions.

  “A large success fee based on purchase price, our standard terms, a six figure sum. Can you handle it?”

  Janet looked at him wide eyed. He seemed serious. He was the Managing Director of a large Multinational. Her confusion was reflected in her face.

  “Don’t worry,” he added reassuring. “You will get a war fund initially say, fifty thousand in a Dublin account with top ups against receipts. I will be your mentor Simmons and we will stay discretely in close touch. Now quickly a decision, are you in or out. You have seconds to decide. Quick, I only ever ask once.”

  “In.” Janet swallowed.

  “All the way? That is the way we do business Janet.”

  “All the way.” This time she sounded more decisive.

  Crawford stood up, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. Across the coffee table he suddenly took her head in his two hands and smacked a kiss on her forehead.

  “To Victory!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms and smiling a beaming smile at her.

  “Get set up in Dublin and then phone me. I will give you a private line. Your expenses will be there before you. Good luck Si
mmons.”

  He held out his hand. Shaken, Janet shook his hand. “Gather up your papers,” he instructed. Then, taking her elbow he led her to the door, holding the hand he had shook. As they walked the few yards his hand released hers, touched her elbow and slipped around her waist. He let her go and opened the door.

  “Simmons is going out on a project,” he said to Christine.

  “Oh exciting,” Christine beamed, it was clear that she had previous experience of this type of proposal, “Come this way Simmons, I will look after you. Pity you will not be working with us further. Still if you make a go of it Mr. Crawford will probably have you back on his long-term hit squad. You really are very young to get such an exciting opportunity.”

  Crawford watched them go. He scratched his tummy, feeling pleased. Now he would have Simmons set up in Dublin, depending on him. And as a bonus they had a good target for acquisition.

  At least this could be fun. Once she was in his power. And she had thought she had to sell him the concept. Spunky mind you the way she had immediately accepted his challenge. To work, to work, he thought and suddenly he had a sparkle in his eye.

  With a light heart he sat at his desk and began to go through the morning post in earnest.

  Janet went with Christine, her head in a spin. Her thoughts buzzed. Stage one; she clenched her grip on her papers. Stage one she repeated internally, have snagged big player, desperately want success, and need to manage Crawford. He is going to make me a success. She was excited but scared, confident but wary.

  Chapter Four

  Dermot O’Rourke manoeuvred his Volvo estate into the outside lane on the N7. The early mists of dawn were giving way to daylight and Dermot was enjoying the drive. The rolling prosperous countryside stretched around him, consisting mainly of large farms with full fields and Stud Farms with horses, Kildare was horse country.