El Mono, page 29
Lunch was in the same place as before. Fields was on top form and splashing out the champagne on his favourite companion as usual. The staff in the restaurant picked up on the mood and were hovering around catering for everything their wealthy client might wish for. Karin was all smiles, too. The more she got to know Fields and like him, the more relaxed she felt in his company. And, of course, this only spurred Fields’s high spirits.
Karin brought up the subject of the arts festival.
‘Morten, I think we are going to be able to take some more good news to the Board in Geneva.’
‘How’s that?’ Fields was all ears.
‘Well, I’m waiting to hear back from some agents in London. They are looking for a week to fix up a famous dance troupe from Sweden to visit us, plus a contingent from the Bolshoi ballet. They promised to call back soon and I’m sure they are going to charge us a high price. Of course, I’ll need your go-ahead to confirm everything. But if it is OK with you, once that is set up I can pull in supporting acts from all over the world to the Triple F Bogotá Dance Festival. It will be big news. The critics will love it. It will be in all the international press.’
‘Russian ballet! The Bogotá Dance Festival! I love it! I love you! Karin – if we can get this confirmed and out in the media before we fly to Geneva, it will be just the thing we need.’
‘And we should have Matthew Williams with us here by that time. Maybe we can have a preliminary report from him as well?’
Fields held up his glass of champagne: ‘Here’s to my star witness in Geneva. I’ll let you tell them all that. There will be an evening reception before the start of the board meeting proper and I’ll introduce you to the members of the Board then. It’s a black-tie event where they like to wallow in their own importance. Get yourself fitted out and buy yourself the most beautiful ball gown in Bogotá. Charge it to me. If there’s nothing suitable here, I’ll fly you to the States to find one. We are going to make them sit up, remember? Your dance festival, our environmental audit, my profit projections … add to that your beautiful looks and their stuffy old ways … we are going to make them sit up, all right!
Karin smiled, her eyes twinkling. Fields gulped his champagne. God – he couldn’t wait to get her to that hotel.
3
Intimate Liaisons
Six weeks flew by. In that time the Berglund and the Bolshoi dance groups had been signed up to arrive in January next and Public Relations had promoted the Bogotá Dance Festival far and wide. Matthew Williams had arrived in Colombia and been assigned to Alejandro González to establish his research base in Popayán. Karin had been measured up for a ball gown by a top dress designer flown in from Milan and was just days away from taking delivery. Fields had been locked away with his accountants for two weeks getting all the balance sheets in order and putting together investment plans, geological surveys and profit projections. Reservations had been made, tickets had arrived and both Fields and Karin were getting nervous about what was awaiting them in Geneva.
Claudia was almost as excited as her flatmate.
‘I am so envious of you, shooting off to Europe like this, and Carolina is, too. But we both wish you every success. Just about everyone here now knows what’s riding on this trip so make sure you knock ’em dead. The way you’ve been looking recently I’m sure you will. You’ve been positively glowing. Get those guys eating out of your hand!’
‘Thank you, Claudia. You and Morten have both said the same but I really don’t know if I can. This is such an important occasion and I only hope I am up to it.’
‘Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re smart. You’re not just a pretty face and they are going to realise that as soon as they talk to you. Men and women in their position might have money and power but they’ve probably not had an original thought, or met an original thinker, in decades. And don’t forget to let some of those old men get a glance of your boobs!’
At the same time as these comments were being made, Morten Fields was thinking much along the same lines. His companion in Switzerland was going to be the surprise component in his appearance at the board meeting. They think they know what they are going to get in inviting me along, Fields said to himself, but I’m going to shake them up in ways they least expect. Karin Roth is going to be the living embodiment of that. I might not have changed from being the pushy thorn in their sides I’ve always been but, if I can pull profits and beauties like Karin out of Bogotá, then they will have to think again about their image of Triple F Colombia. He licked his lips as he lifted his suitcase on to his bed to start packing. Confronting the members of the Board at that first evening reception was going to be the site of his first victory and once momentum had been established he hoped he would be able to go on and win the war.
It was not too long before the big day arrived. A long flight from Bogotá, with a transfer in Madrid, brought them to Geneva. Then it was a taxi ride to the Hôtel d’Angleterre and two adjoining rooms for the tired travellers. They arrived in the evening and had a little less than twenty-four hours to prepare for the official reception and what would be the informal opening of business. The board meeting proper started at 10 a.m. the following day.
Karin loved the hotel. It was old fashioned but had been recently remodelled and perfectly equipped for business. The service was impeccable; the rooms and fittings comfortable and luxurious without being over the top. Fields was at his gentlemanly best, thanking his companion for getting all the arrangements right, kissing her on the cheek and trusting she would sleep well and be thoroughly rested before the start of proceedings the next day.
The next afternoon butterflies were flying in Karin’s stomach. She had had her hair washed and dried: long, very dark brown, falling into waves over her shoulders. Make-up was simple – not overdone, just black eyeliner and red lipstick to match the ball gown. The long evening dress was beautifully cut, clung to her figure and swayed when she walked. She knocked on the adjoining door for Morten to come and see and check her over.
He came in and just goggled.
Karin grinned.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Do I like it? You look absolutely fabulous. Excuse me while I go back out and calm down – you know that this is really the red rag to the bull …’ He promptly did as he said, pausing in the doorway to look back and gaze again. He did not remember how much the corporation had paid for the dress designer to fly out and make up this outfit for her but whatever it was it was worth every penny. He took a deep breath and returned.
‘Karin – I’ll say it again. You look spectacular and this is going to be some night to remember. The reception starts in just over fifteen minutes but with you looking like that I don’t think we should go down too early. I’ll knock in three-quarters of an hour and then we will go – is that OK?’
‘Fine, Morten. It’s just that I’m so nervous if I don’t hang on to you going in I’m sure I will trip over and faint. Look after me until I get my bearings, won’t you?’
‘If you can hang on to me all night, it won’t be long enough, so far as I’m concerned,’ smiled Fields, and he meant it. ‘But I have a feeling there will be lots of others who will want to have your company tonight, so have no fear. In forty-five minutes, then.’
The reception room was thronging with people when they arrived but they parted like the Nile waters when Karin came in on the arm of Morten Fields. She, of course, knew no one, but a number of dinner-jacketed men made straight for Morten to say hello and be introduced. She lost count of most of the names but two stuck close by – a polite, rather formal Swiss gentleman with greying hair called Wilhelm and an over-familiar Australian named Brian who gave every impression of having hair sprouting all over his chest. Morten seemed to know these two quite well – he stopped to chat to Wilhelm while the Australian sidled up and wanted to know Karin as well and as quickly as possible.
‘It’s Karen, is it?’ he said, getting her name wrong. ‘And where did Morten dig you up from?’
‘He didn’t dig me up from anywhere,’ said Karin sweetly. ‘I’m not some mineral resource.’ She noticed a waiter passing by. ‘Could you get me a glass of white wine, please?’
As the Australian obliged, Karin said hello to the Swiss gentleman, trying out her German: ‘Guten Abend, Wilhelm. Ich freue mich Sie zu treffen.’
Both Morten and Wilhelm stopped to look at her. Brian the Australian stopped also, frozen out with two glasses of wine in his hand.
‘Guten Abend, Karin,’ said Wilhelm with a big smile and a bow.
‘I didn’t know you could speak German,’ said Fields in surprise.
‘Well, I don’t really. I haven’t used it in years but my father was German so I’ve always retained an interest. Excuse me, Wilhelm,’ Karin returned the bow, ‘if I do not continue this conversation in your own language.’
‘Of no matter, my dear. Thank you for taking the trouble – very kind of you indeed. However, if we Swiss want to do business here we are accustomed to speaking English. You are with Morten, but you are not Colombian, I suspect?’
‘No. I am English, but settled in Colombia. A beautiful country – do you know it?’
Wilhelm shook his head sadly. ‘Regrettably not. These days I do not travel far from Geneva, though in my time I have seen many countries with Triple F. Latin America not included, I have to say.’
The conversation naturally flowed from here to a discussion of a number of international locations with Morten and Wilhelm comparing notes on where they had been. Karin took the opportunity of thanking the Australian for her wine but kept him at a distance until others arrived to break up the party and introduce themselves.
With a sideways glance and a wink, Morten introduced Karin to the Chairman of the Board, another grey-haired Swiss called Richard; an Englishman named George, and a rather obese American whom people referred to as John or sometimes Jack. Judging by the way others revolved around them, these three were clearly the more senior decision-makers on the Board. There were a number of other faces that came and went in the course of the next hour – only one woman of note, a tall American in her forties named Julie who was instantly friendly and a twinkly-eyed Spaniard from Madrid whom Karin immediately warmed to and could chatter away to enthusiastically, recovering her madrileño accent.
The reception room was full of mostly inconsequential small talk, fed by wine and canapés. but then a string quartet suddenly started playing. Karin was next to Julie and the Spaniard, Gustavo.
‘How lovely!’ said Karin. ‘Something really nice to listen to at last.’
Gustavo nearly choked with laughter. Julie smiled at her.
‘Yes, it can get a bit tiresome, can’t it?’ she said. ‘So many male egos on display. Do excuse me, Gustavo, but you are as bad as the rest of them.’
Gustavo nearly choked again.
‘Gracias, señora. You are so kind to me! But now that the music is playing, perhaps one of you dear ladies will be so kind as to take my ego with you on a quick waltz around the dance floor?’
Julie looked at Karin. Karin couldn’t wait: she held out her hand to the Spaniard, curtsied and waited for him to lead her forward. This he did with panache. People stepped aside and the two of them – the black dinner-jacketed and very upright Castilian and his blazing red young English rose – waltzed out into the centre of the room.
Morten Fields was instantly jealous and came over to Julie, a compatriot, and insisted that they two must join the other couple. Julie did not demur. She was not exactly competitive but equally she was not going to let the younger woman have all the fun.
The string quartet were clearly pleased at the reaction they had produced and so played up and played along with what they hoped would keep the dancing going. They were not unsuccessful. Other couples slowly joined in: Geneva may not be Vienna and business receptions were not normally occasions for dancing but something was in the air that evening that persuaded some corporation executives to step forward and take their wives to the floor.
As soon as he could, Fields tapped Gustavo on the shoulder and demanded that they exchange partners. He wanted to get his arms around the woman he had brought here. Karin curtsied again, said goodbye to one partner and smiled up at the next. She was enjoying herself at last.
‘Goodness, I am so glad that the music started,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t keep going just nodding and smiling and saying sweet nothings all night!’
‘You are doing just fine, Karin. More than fine. So many people keep asking me who you are and where I found you. I’ve said very little so you are going to tantalise them all week. One thing you can try, though, if you will. I’m going to deliver you up next to the Chairman of the Board so see if you can get him out here, will you?’
‘OK. I’ll do my duty,’ Karin promised.
The two of them swirled around to finish their dance in front of the Chairman, his wife, and the two other important members of the Board that had greeted Karin earlier. Karin had not met the wives properly, so she politely introduced herself this time. She thought she had better not offend the ladies of such important men, especially if she was going to try and get one or two of them out on to the dance floor. She guessed, or rather hoped, that these elegant ladies were probably rather bored with men who were immersed in business and slow to involve their wives in something a little more diverting.
The usual niceties started the conversation and Karin waited for Morten to get Richard, the Chairman, pontificating on something or other before she broke in. She spoke first to his wife, making sure he could hear.
‘Would you say that chairmen of large corporations like Triple F are entrepreneurs, decision-makers and risk-takers?’ She posed the question with a teasing note to her voice.
‘Of course!’ Richard butted in. He wasn’t going to let anyone answer for him – especially when the questioner was this highly attractive female who had just appeared at his elbow.
Karin grinned at his wife who could see she was up to something that her husband was walking right into.
‘Well, I will risk my toes in the next waltz if he might decide to take me out on the dance floor …’ She turned and flashed him a smile. ‘Will you risk a waltz with me?’
To Karin’s relief, the elegant ladies all broke up, smirking and chuckling.
‘Go on, Richard!’ said one. ‘You can’t refuse such a charming request!
‘Besides,’ his wife chimed in, ‘after all these years I want to see if you can still cut it out there on the dance floor in front of everybody!’
Karin curtsied decorously, bowing her head but letting her cleavage show, and waited, smiling, for the Chairman to take the lead. He blustered and coloured and was damned if he was not going to rise to the challenge.
A buzz of conversation followed them out into the centre. Richard was rather portly and not the most coordinated of movers but he was determined to show his wife that he had not entirely forgotten what dancing was all about. A much travelled businessman and a proud Swiss, he was going to show that it was not just Viennese who knew how to waltz.
Karin recognised his need to show how this business leader could also lead on the dance floor in front of all these people, so she did her best to show him off and place him in the spotlight. Richard huffed and puffed and twirled, rising and falling as best he could with the music. Karin swirled around him, covering up any mistakes he made with her skirts and her grace. They journeyed from one end of the floor and back again just as the music came to an end. Karin dropped to the floor, curtseying and showing her gratitude and a good part of her cleavage again. The Chairman, in response, bowed and walked stiffly back to his wife with the audience clapping and cheering behind him. Karin looked at his wife. She quietly nodded her thanks. Karin silently mouthed her thanks in return – she was grateful she had not upset her.
The men around Richard congratulated him on his performance and welcomed Karin back to join them. In the time they had been on the floor others had arrived – including Wilhelm and Brian, the Australian.
‘That was very well done, young lady,’ said Wilhelm, ‘you dance very well.’
‘Thank you but I’m nothing compared to my friends in Bogotá. Have you heard of the Triple F Dance Festival we are setting up there in just over a year?’
‘A Triple F Dance Festival?’ queried John, the American, who was listening. ‘What are you doing organising that?’
‘We are active in sponsoring the arts. Why? Don’t you think that businesses like ours should be involved in such things?’
Brian, the Aussie, laughed condescendingly. ‘We’re in the business of natural resource exploitation,’ he butted in, ‘not entertainment.’
Karin looked at the two men – Australian and American – who had questioned her. She didn’t like the expressions she saw.
‘I do not think you appreciate how vulnerable multinational businesses like Triple F are in Latin America,’ she said cuttingly. ‘Europeans have been plundering resources from that continent since the fifteenth century and as a result we have an image problem that managers like you should be sensitive to. As it happens, Colombians will love Triple F for putting on a dance festival. They will certainly not love you for saying you are only interested in exploiting their natural resources. If Triple F wants to make a success of their business in Latin America, as I and Morten do, then we and you have to think long term. A focus on dig it up, ship it out and make a quick profit is a recipe for business disaster!’ She stared pointedly at the two who had upset her, as if challenging them to respond.
There was a stunned silence that followed that outburst. Morten took the opportunity to break up the party.
