wonderboys were looking down the barrel at doing some time. Rich, don’t you think? Now one’s the bloody federal A-G, the other one bankrolls the Libs, and I’m doing time for some piddling malfeasance.’
‘Very rich,’ I said. ‘What could you do for them?’
‘Well, they were trying to unwind some deals, handle some very menacing inquiries from the Tax Department. The big thing was, they’d gone in for a share play, no names, not big by market standards, but much too big for them. A person who must remain nameless because he has people killed, this person convinced them to buy a large number of shares in company X for him. Bought in small parcels over about a year in the names of all these little companies they owned but were registered in Levesque’s mother’s name, his father’s, Rupert’s hippy cousins stoned witless in Nimbin, all kinds of names. But not bought with the nameless person’s money. No, oh no. With the Killer Bees’ own money, borrowed.’
New cigarette. Through the slit windows, I could see a Lombardy poplar in silhouette against the dying light.
‘The deal was,’ said Miles, ‘that when the person makes a takeover bid for the company, Levesque, Rupert and company sell him their holdings off-market. At a discount to the market price but a nice profit over what they paid.’
‘What would that amount to?’
‘They expected to make six or seven million clear.’
‘And didn’t?’
Miles scratched his upper lip. Tic. ‘One morning the shares went into freefall. By the close, the twelve million they’d spent was worth about two. The person, their trusted associate, was unavailable. No longer in the country. Finally, he rings Levesque from somewhere, Egypt I think it was, and says, sorry it didn’t pan out, that’s business. And he offers them two million for their holding.’
‘One could almost feel for them.’
‘Yes. Well, I talked to the banks for them, got a bit of relief, unwound a few of the loonier deals, but basically they were a basket case. Then Levesque gets me over to HQ in East Melbourne, very pleased with himself.’ He paused. Tic.
‘They’ve found a buyer for fifty-one per cent of TransQuik. An American freight outfit called Eagle Exprexxo, based in Tampa, Florida. That’s E-X-P-R-E-X-X-O. For fifty-one per cent, Eagle offers $20-odd million, I can’t remember the exact figure. I remember I started laughing. That valued TransQuik at around $40 million-a company that had never made a profit. And this is 1984, mind you. Serious offer, says Levesque. They see our potential, springboard into the region, etcetera. All that bullshit. I said, let’s see it on paper.’
‘What did Levesque want from you if he was such a hotshot business analyst?’
‘Nothing. He didn’t want me at all. Brent Rupert wanted me. To look at the deal. It was dawning on him through the coke haze that Levesque was dangerous. Could take a long time for things to dawn on Brent in those days, I can tell you. The short of it is that the next week we have a meeting with two lawyers. One is Rick Shelburne from Sydney. Well, I’d been at the sharp end of a few things by then and the sight of Shelburne made my scrotum shrink. Heard of him?’
I nodded. ‘Someone said he had a talent for winning over councillors.’
Miles smiled. Tic. ‘He used to be a spook, my Sydney friend tells me. ASIS. Worked for the Americans in the Philippines. He’s mixed up with very strange things.’
Tic.
He looked out of the embrasure at the coming night, moved his lips soundlessly. Faintly glazed look. ‘Hate the nights,’ he said. Tic. Tic. ‘I’m a prison librarian and Rick Shelburne’s presumably on the beach at Noosa. Says a lot about the criminal justice system.’
Tic.
‘And the second lawyer?’ I said.
He shook himself, looked at his cigarette, extracted a fresh one from the packet. ‘Person you wouldn’t cross either, Carlos something. German-sounding name. I forget.’
‘Siebold. Carlos Siebold.’
‘Siebold. That’s right. He’s representing the Americans. Well, not directly. There’s a bank in Luxembourg involved, forget that name too.’
‘Klostermann Gardier.’
‘Correct. Absolutely. The finance will come through them, he says. He wants a new company set up to own TransQuik, a Hong Kong-registered company. The Killer Bees to own forty-nine per cent of that. Another company will own the fifty-one per cent. Not the American company.’
‘Not Eagle Exprexxo?’
‘No. A company that owns Eagle.’
‘Complicated.’
More laughter and tics. ‘And this Carlos whoever, he says the bank, on behalf of whoever, they’ll lend TransQuik $40 million for acquisitions. Through the Hong Kong holding company. Terms to be discussed.’
‘To my untutored ear, an attractive offer.’
Miles smiled. He had a nice smile, a smile a child would like. ‘Untutored ear. I like that. I’ve been trying to learn to appreciate classical music. Funny how you spend your life. All I ever did was chase money. Never read a book.’
The glazed look was coming on again, more glazed.
‘So,’ I said, ‘what did you recommend?’
He blinked, once, twice, focused on me. ‘Yes. Yes. Well. I’m not saying I was a stranger to complicated propositions. Not at all. No. Put up a few of my own by then. Propositions aren’t necessarily bad because they’re complicated. No. The problem is they’re often complicated because they’re bad.’
Miles smiled, reflected on the wisdom of this statement, looked at the window, eyes narrowed, cigarette burning in his fingers, forgotten, ash fell off, onto the formica.
We were running out of time: they eat early in the slammers, even the genteel white-collar slammers.
‘What advice did you give them, TransQuik?’
Alert again.
‘Sorry, tend to drop off at the end of the day. Early start. I took Levesque and Rupert and McColl into the next room. I said to them, nobody offers deals like this. This is like the fax from Nigeria offering you free money. Rupert was nodding, he agreed. McColl was watching Levesque like a puppydog, watched Levesque like that all the time. Levesque smiles, McColl smiles. He’d fart in front of the Queen if Levesque went first. Well, Levesque gives me a hard look. He didn’t like my opinion at all. “We’ve checked these people out,’’ he said. “We’re happy.’’’
The warder came in, still worried that his collection of lawyers and accountants and pyramid salesmen and shirt-lifting priests were going to storm the walls. ‘Five minutes maximum, Mr Irish.’
Miles said, ‘I told Levesque the offer was outside my experience. He says, he’s looking at me like a hungry animal, he says, “What, you want to consult an accountant? Our accountant needs his own accountant?’’ I said, “No, I’m suggesting some caution.’’ You know what he said?’
‘What?’
‘Levesque looked at me, he’s got a smile where he opens his lips slowly, you see more and more teeth. Then he said: “Fuck off, Dixon, whatever your name is. Double-barrelled bullshit artist. You’re small-time. You’ll always be small-time. You’re not required. Piss off. Get out.’’’
We didn’t have much time left. ‘Did they take the offer?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘They paid off all debts, squared the Tax Department, unloaded the shares. Then, about nine, ten months later, the buying spree started-Leeton Stevedoring, Pacargo Air, that’s a freight airline in Papua New Guinea. Travel agencies. Truck stops. Got a new CEO, too. An American, he’d be the new owner’s man.’
‘How would you rate your judgment now? Good deal for Levesque and his partners?’
Miles was tired. Tic. A still facial moment. Tic.
‘I hate the bastard, concede that,’ he said. ‘My judgment was to take care. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have said go for it when we knew more. But as it stood it wasn’t a deal. It was an offer of money. Question is, what kind of money is it? You need to know.’
‘What kind did you think it was?’
‘I’m a bit of a stickybeak. I tried to run down Eagle Exprexxo. Had a bit of experience with Cook Islands,
