Papcon’s offices were situated on Avenue Matignon, a very fashionable address, in a stylish modern building faced with the traditional off-white Parisian chalk stone, just two minutes walk from the Rond Point des Champs Elysee.
That impressed Brodzski’s foreign and even French business acquaintances. The address had served him well over the years, but for some reason he had begun to develop a fixation about moving northwards from the city to La Defense with its Grande Arche.
The new business district of Paris was at La Defense, where the prestige tower blocks of the major French companies were located. The development of the district had commenced in the late sixties and finally completed after more than twenty years. It was said to be one of the highest concentration of office towers in Europe grouped together on a single site.
Avenue Matignon had suited him up to that point in time; it had class, combining the old with new and conveniently located in the heart of Paris. He had a staff of some twenty highly specialised professionals, engaged in the assessment and analysis of the numerous projects, which were referred to Papcon mostly by foreign government agencies. However, much of the detail work was sub-contracted out to specialised consulting firms. Brodzski firmly believed that his experts should only look after the noblest tasks and be on constant standby for urgent missions.
Antoine Brodzski, Papcon’s president, at sixty-four years old was a heavy smoker and drinker. He indulged every kinds of excess from over-eating to over-travelling. He lived on stress, even though his family doctor never ceased to underline the risks that his dangerous life style could have on his health. He liked to boast of his resistance, carefully avoiding questions about his age and condition, maintaining an appearance more suited to a dynamic and younger man. He had no desire to stimulate useless speculation about retirement and the future of his business.
Another of Brodzski’s failings was his sensitivity that verged on the paranoia, becoming incensed at the slightest provocation, raging against enemies, real or imagined, and any unfortunate person who inadvertently obstructed his plans or actions, even in the most innocent way. People such as passport controllers, customs officers and policemen. Ennis had been startled to see him as white as a sheet and hyperventilating, as the result of an Indian security guard failing to recognise his importance, at a reception held in a New Delhi hotel, the guard had simply demanded to see his invitation.
He regularly consumed considerable quantities of pills, stimulants and tranquillisers to keep him awake and alert, or to help him to sleep and relax. These medications were often consumed with inconsiderate quantities of whisky, wine or beer. In his lucid moments he was persuaded to visit his cardiologist, but he was totally incapable of following the least medical advice for more than a few days.
Behind the façade, his personal organisation was just as chaotic. His hotel room often appeared as though it had been hit by a cyclone. On many occasions Ennis had been enrolled to awake him and even dress him when he had overslept after his excesses. Ennis had observed him, as the result of a heavy drinking session on the overnight flight from Paris to Jakarta, breathing heavily and desperately like a tired old dray horse on arrival.
It was one of Axelmann’s tasks to hide Brodzski’s condition and to cover up his repeated antics from their business partners. There were moments when travelling, that Axelmann feared seriously for Brodzski’s health, having to call the hotel doctor to administer the necessary antidotes to compensate for his excesses.
He was overweight and when he was tired the pallor of his skin gave the impression of a sick old man. He often played on this to obtain what he wanted, to extract sympathy or to simulate fatigue, whenever the going became too rough during negotiations.
None of those conditions were sufficient to keep him away from his Thursday appointments, a euphemism for his visits to an establishment in Paris, where he could pass the afternoon in the company of young women, for a few hours of soothing relaxation. He enjoyed the company of women and as a consequence was easily seduced by the ideas of almost any well brought up young businesswoman, to the point that he committed serious errors of judgement as a result of their charm.
However, his real passion in life was his business, his company Papcon, and he very rarely left the subject, except for his only serious pastime, Bridge, which he played well. It was almost an extension of his business life, in which he could pit his skill and intelligence against his opponents, often taking advantage of their company to persuade them to invest in his projects. However, in tournaments he criticised, humiliated and raged against his lesser partners and opponents, exactly as he did in business, where he could not suffer weakness or incompetence in his entourage.
In spite of his hectic and undisciplined life style, he cared for his appearance, he was a smart dresser and his carefully trimmed mane of thick white hair bestowed on him the appearance of a dignified statesman. It was especially effective in Asia, where age and experience were traditionally held in high esteem.
In Paris his daily routine consisted of holding court from nine thirty to midday, commencing with very strong black coffee and finishing with a glass of whisky before leaving for a copious lunch, always accompanied by a good bottle of wine or even two. This rendered him unpredictable for the rest of the day; he could be either euphoric or aggressive, depending on the latest business news, or the way in which his visitors had received his monologue.
That damp Monday morning at the beginning of February, Brodzski called one of his cabinet meetings to examine his plan for Barito. It was typically a one-way exchange of ideas; his key staff sat with their knees crossed and listened, only speaking when questioned. No notes were ever taken, no secretaries were ever present, and Brodzski liberally treated all those not party to his plans to a dose of scorn and insults, when he suspected they were not in concordance with his ideas.
Brodzski informed his staff of the latest events. He had not been inactive during the expedition of his men to Kalimantan. He had met with Henry Glikmann, a cousin of Brodzski’s wife. Glikmann was a member of the board of Schumann et Fils, merchant and corporate bankers.
They were also the majority shareholder of a major construction firm, Travaux Publiques Strasbourgeois, known as TPS, who Glikmann suggested were potential candidates for Brodzski’s consortium.
Glikmann introduced Brodzski to Jean Strecker, the president of TPS, and at a luncheon Strecker had confirmed that they were interested in participating as the French lead partner in the venture-in parallel with the chemical pulp process equipment builder: Finntech, pending the results of Papcon’s latest investigations in Indonesia and the receipt of a detailed project outline.
Like many other French companies, TPS, had been traditionally active in Africa and the Middle East, they had practically no recent experience in the South East Asia, which they had been avoided by choice, since the time France had ignominiously quit French Indo-China thirty years previously.
They interest in moving into those booming markets had grown as Africa had plunged into doom and economic chaos. Papcon’s project promised them a ready-made place. During the luncheon Brodzski had dangled a copy of the telex from Jakarta in front of Jean Strecker and it had had its desired effect. Strecker at once agreed to meet Brodzski and his men some days later for a briefing on the results of their on the spot investigation.
The headquarters of TPS was in the outlying grey Parisian suburb of Cergy Pontoise, a low five storey building, in a sober modern style, in concrete and glass, a rectangular form enclosing Japanese gardens. It was in this building, two thousand people worked, engineers, designers and administrative staff, on construction contracts in over thirty different countries around the world.
The trio was led by Strecker’s secretary, an efficient but serious looking blond, to his office through the spacious reception area and brightly lit corridors, which were decorated with photographs of their most prestigious contracts which included; dams, bridges and airports.
Strecker’s office was panelled in oak and furnished with Louis XIV antiques, designed for the genteel nobles of that epoch. It struck Ennis as somehow incongruous, to see the bulky frame of Strecker ensconced in a delicate chair, looming over his disproportionately small, elaborately carved, bureau.
Brodzski used the intimate form of address tu to Strecker since they had both attended the elite military engineering college, L’Ecole Polytechnique, founded almost two hundred years previously by the Emperor Napoleon.
‘Axelmann and Ennis have just returned from Jakarta. They have confirmation the Indonesian government will accept the project!’ Brodzski said in a single exalted breath, glowing with self-satisfaction. He had never hesitated to capitalise on an event. He described Idris Hendra as representing the entire government of Indonesia.
Ennis was constantly surprised when Brodzski’s business friends and acquaintances, swallowed one hundred percent of all what he told them. He was discovering that Brodzski had an extraordinary power to convince people and used his talent with devastating results.
‘They want us to prepare a feasibility study and make an inventory of the forest,’ continued Brodzski, ‘and de Berne has accepted!’
Another astonishing declaration, since de Berne had barely had the time to absord the report on their visit.
‘You can join us if you like,’ he added, changing his tone to an indifferent almost childlike take it or leave invitation.
It was evident that Strecker although a highly experienced company president, with some six billion dollars a year sales under his responsibility, was not even remotely aware of what a green field pulp mill project in the jungle could resemble, let alone get involved in its development. He did not hesitate to place his confidence in Brodzski, who had been introduced by Henry Glikmann; his friend and Brodzski’s family relative. Further, Brodzski had attended the same elite engineering school as Strecker...they were old boys!
‘Listen my friend!’ said Strecker using his favourite opening phrase. ‘We aren’t in the business of mixing and pouring concrete for nothing, my fellows understand that kind of work, but building a pulp mill, I’m sorry, they don’t have that kind of process knowledge. Find the right process partner, then we’ll work out an arrangement together,’ he smiled, indicating his agreement to Brodzski.
With the main business clear Strecker led them to lunch in their VIP dinning room, whilst Brodzski pursued his idea of the project organisation, putting an emphasis on what interested Strecker...the vast civil engineering contract. Brodzski then casually announced that the Indonesians would provide an up front equity participation of one hundred and fifty million dollars. Glancing discretely towards Axelmann, Ennis saw him lifting his eyebrows to the ceiling; no such question had been seriously considered up to that moment in time.
From the bar Strecker personally poured the cocktails and toasted to their success, he was hooked, convinced by Brodzski, his two professional executives and their glowing presentation. They then relaxed to enjoy a full executive luncheon, cocktail d’hommard, followed by a rack of lamb, and a selection of French cheeses accompanied by very good Medoc.
As the coffee and cognac was served, Brodzski accepted a fine Havana cigar and confided to Strecker a number of unfounded titbits of information, including the idea that the French authorities wished to encourage such a project. This had been vaguely suggested during a lunch given for him by the French Ambassador in Jakarta. It was without any confirmation from government sources at Bercy, the home of the Ministry of Finance and Department of Foreign Trade and Commerce, which controlled all French credit approvals for large overseas contracts.
‘Strecker’s in the bag!’ said Brodzski as they left TPS, heading through the heavy traffic towards of Paris. He lay back deep in the comfortable seat of his Mercedes drawing on his cigar, he was deep in thought. Then almost thinking aloud he surprised them by confiding that the next on his list would be Construction Lyonnaise.
Axelmann knew Lyonnaise well; they were old friends of Brodzski and had survived a number of his projects over the previous twenty-five years, including two of his memorable bankruptcies. They knew what they were getting themselves into.
Papcon were making money from their contract in Cambodia. Brodzski was a good risk; the knowledge that TPS would be the leading French partner in the business was comforting. It was for this reason that the CEO of Lyonnaise, Michel Lenoir, agreed to carry out a budgetary analysis of the project development costs, and appointed a project manager to coordinate with Axelmann.
Lyonnaise were specialised in the construction of heavy process equipment for industrial boiler plant. Their potential share in the project would be in the order of eighty million dollars. Joining them would be Bayonne Industries, a company from the south west of France, manufacturers of electrical equipment. To round off the group, Lenoir promised to introduce the German company Klienner Industrie Anlagen to Brodzski, specialised in turbines and power generation equipment.
There still remained one essential element necessary to complete the consortium, assembled to finance the development costs of the project; that was the specialist engineering consultants, and they were in Finland, the only possible country in Europe, if not the world, which could provide the consortium with sufficient credibility.
Laxell, Finntech’s director in Paris, organised Brodzski’s meeting with the engineering consultants Kalevi Nurminen in Helsinki on Tapani Hakkala’s instructions. Three decades earlier, Nurminen had founded his firm and was still its President, firmly holding the reins of power and all the shares in the business. He had built up his firm over the years becoming one of the world leading authorities in their field, with 2,500 engineers and designers. Their head office was in Helsinki with overseas branches in all countries having significant pulp and paper industries.
Laxell was a well-known figure, when it came to Finnish business and public relations in France. He had spent his life promoting Finland overseas. He had represented his country proudly for over thirty years in the Commercial Section of the Finnish Foreign Ministry before joining Finntech.
Laxell’s view of the world was narrow. He was firmly convinced of Nordic superiority over Southern Europeans, and anybody else for that matter. He carried his convictions like a banner together with the fading Scandinavian reputation for quality and organisation. In unguarded moments Laxell had even been known to let slip his admiration for the thoroughness of the Third Reich, whose interests, be it for a brief period, coincided with those of Finland in World War II, against their common enemy, the Soviet Union.
His overseas appointments as Commercial Counsellor included obscure postings to Damascus and Rabat, where his main job had been to sell Finland’s principal exports, forestry products, namely timber. The needs of those Middle East and North African countries had been very modest, in fact they were amongst the world’s lowest consumers.
Nevertheless, he had carefully cultivated friends among the visiting Finnish ministers. He made sure that their every need was looked after, until finally in the mid-seventies, his patience and efforts were rewarded. He obtained a posting to Paris, the present of a grateful, or perhaps, compromised minister!
The job was much the same, but certainly more glamorous, dinners, cocktails, exhibitions and guided tours, during which he cultivated business relations, carefully constituting an extensive carnet d’adresse.
His business had not changed-promoting Finland’s forest products-but the country had evolved over the years and had also become an exporter of superior technology for forest-based industries. He considered himself organized and liked to keep his desk clean. It had always been his role to pass on information, never to act as a result of that information. He informed Finnish companies of local needs, and local companies of the availability of Finnish products, but the responsibility of buying or selling was never his forte.
As a result he was an excellent PR man, good at smiling and shaking hands. He was well known on the cocktail circuit and whenever an invitation presented itself for a dinner or lunch in good company, he was always available.
Laxell’s favourite subject of conversation was the Winter War and how the Finns heroically beat the Russians. He could recount in the most remarkable detail, heroic actions in combat, and many of his listeners did not doubt for a single moment that he had done his share. They did not stop to calculate, that when Finland signed the armistice with Russia in 1944, Laxell was just barely fifteen years old.
His greatest regret was that he had been sent by his parents to spend the war on his uncle’s farm, far from the combat areas, but where one summer he had seen for a few glorious instants, and fixed forever in his memory, a squadron of German fighters flying low over the golden wheat fields in Southern Finland.
Laxell cultivated the appearance of being upright and charming, in the image of his military heroes, and in fact he was. Amongst his talents he was a good mimic. Observing soon after his arrival in France, that the French spoke quickly, he endeavoured to do likewise, with sometimes unfortunate results.
He was on occasions unwittingly maladroit. In spite of over thirty years in the diplomatic service, he could not help blurting out, without first thinking, tactless statements and opinions. His tactless subjects ranged from the underdevelopment of France, to comments that were unmistakably slanted against the Jews and in a country where the Jewish community was significant, especially in the business world. He was saved from disaster by the possible doubt that existed over the sense of his statements, as a result of his French, which was blurred by a heavy Finnish accent, and the speed of his jumbled words, which he mistakenly took for fluency
Whenever Laxell was recalled to Helsinki, it posed a problem. His first marriage had ended in divorce and he had remarried a fiery Parisienne many years younger than himself, who had not the least intention of being banished to the frozen wilderness of the steppes, as she described Finland. As a result he was left forsaken during the long periods he was obliged to spend in his home country on business, and where he was resigned to consoling himself with an endless series of gallant affaires with ever-ready Finnish ladies.
It had been through Laxell that Philippe de Berne had been introduced to Tapani Hakkala, soon after Laxell had taken over the French public relations of Finntech. It had also been through his friendship with Tapani Hakkala that he had been offered a directorship of the new company that they had formed in Paris, to develop their alternative marketing strategy, when Finnish business world realised that their business with the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe was at an end. Laxell knew how to flatter people and in certain circles in Paris that counted.
Finntech’s Paris office was established in a stylish modern building on the Faubourg St Honoré, in the centre of Paris. Their principal business was the importation of Finnish forestry products and machinery. The business had been slow at first but the stolid Finns were not to be diverted from their long-term objectives. Their business was of a highly cyclic nature and had only just bottomed out at the end of a long downward movement. The predicated upswing was said to be just around the corner, but it was slow in coming.
Ennis had joined them to market their Engineering Divisions products and services, promoting their process and industrial expertise for new projects in France, or, those that could be financed with French credits in the developing world.
Laxell knew Kalevi Nurminen well, one of the outstanding figures in the Finnish forest industry, a true seigneur. Like Laxell, Nurminen was nationalistic and justifiably proud of his country’s achievements. The reputation his firm wielded as a world-renowned engineering consultant ensured that his benediction on a project made it almost immediately bankable.