Brodzski was in good form when he opened the door; he was knotting his tie and was still without his shoes.
‘Come in, come in, I’ve just a couple of things to do. You understand English better than me,’ he said laughing. ‘Look! The hotel doctor gave me these things to sleep a little better-jet lag!’
He showed Ennis a small dark coloured medicine bottle, it was full of pills, and he pointed to the label.
‘What does that say? Not only is his English ambiguous, but he doesn’t know how to write either. I’m not sure if it’s one each three hours or three each hour,’ he moved his head back a little, then forward, as if he were trying to focus clearly on the handwritten instructions.
Ennis knew strictly nothing about medicines. He prided himself on never taking the stuff, but in order to keep Brodzski happy he took the bottle and studied it, sitting down on the only chair free of the incredible mess in his suite. He could never understand how Brodzski always managed to look well groomed, his trousers were always perfectly pressed, he was always clean-shaven and his thick white hair neatly combed.
Ennis examined the bottle, it was true that the writing was the typical scrawl of a doctor, but it seemed not too complicated, one tablet every three hours in case of prolonged insomnia, there did not seem any doubt to him as to the clearness of the instructions.
He placed the bottle on the night table, at the same time trying to formulating in his head a suitable reply, it was best not to contradict Brodzski especially that particular evening, he turned to where he had been standing, but he had disappeared into the bath room.
As he looked around the room he could not miss seeing the empty bottles of beer and at least two bottles of whisky were visible, one about half empty and the other almost empty. Brodzski never attempted to hide the bottles in his room; he did not think there was anything to hide. He never imagined that there had been any excess, and Ennis supposed that it was the contrary. Brodzski had generally controlled his intake of alcohol very well. He had even criticised others for their dependence on drink and pills, but recently it seemed to Ennis that his drinking had started to get out of control, perhaps it had been the stress and worry.
On his bedside table there was a myriad of bottles and boxes of medicaments of every description. Ennis had already seen it before, but he would never forget the first time that he had seen Brodzski’s collection.
He came out of the bathroom and slipped on a pale blue jacket. ‘We’re early?’ he questioned. ‘They’re sending a car?’
‘Yes, at seven thirty.’
It was not the same as with Sutrawan. His successor, their new partner Bob Suwondo, was a completely different personality. He did not differ in the royal treatment he served up to his foreign guests and partners, except that perhaps his invitations were more formal, there was a hint that entertaining was more of a business formality, rather than pleasure or a way of life as it had been with Sutrawan.
That evening they were invited to the Oasis. It was almost like a play back, but what did it matter, Ennis thought to himself philosophically, at least they had a new partner to bankroll them and give their credibility a new sparkle-the road back had been long and difficult.
They took the lift down to the lobby, inspecting themselves in the mirror and were satisfied with what they saw. Almost as soon as the stepped out of the lift Danny Lau appeared like clockwork, exactly on time, it was like old times, same story, just some of the actors had changed.
‘Hello Mr Brodzski,’ he said with the rising and falling tones of his American-Chinese accent. ‘Hi John,’ he said turning and stroking Ennis’ shoulder, in one of his favourite gestures, ‘Where’s Mr Lombard?’ he looked around. Lombard was waiting at the head of the escalator, he was always punctual, he had already checked out of the hotel and would leave directly for Paris on the night flight after their dinner.
‘Mr Suwondo will met us in the restaurant, he’ll go directly. He was with Mr Haryono earlier this afternoon discussing the details of the forestry permits.’
Haryono was the new minister of forestry who had been appointed after Wihartjo and his close staff had been killed in their plane crash in the Schwaner Mountains.
They took the escalator down from the main lobby to the entrance where Deny asked the attendant to page his car at the parking desk and heard his voice boom over the car parks loud speaker.
The Oasis was perhaps the oldest and most famous restaurant in Jakarta; it had been founded by a wealthy Dutchman many years back, in his beautiful and stately colonial residence. It was renowned for it’s famous rijstaffel, one of the traditional dishes of Indonesia, which consisted of an extraordinary variety of exotic dishes of rice, meat, fruit and spices. Each dish was individually carried to the tables, balanced on one hand at shoulder level, by a long line of local beauties, barefooted and dressed in traditional costume, providing a permanent scene of local colour in graceful movement.
Suwondo was already at the centre of their long table, set to one side of the main dining room, chosen so that his guest would see the colourful coming and going which was one of the restaurants main attractions.
Ennis calculated that there would be twelve or fourteen guests, including Minister Haryono and his new Director General. They themselves were the first guests to arrive.
The restaurant resounded with the music of a Batak group from North Sumatra, playing guitars, it was reminiscent of the mariachis of Mexico; the men were small, dark and moustachioed, not unlike Pancho Villa. They wore embroidered capes and each of them carried a menacing looking Kris tucked into his waistband.
Glancing around he saw the girls serving the other tables. He admired their sparkling smiles, the brightly coloured exotic flowers set in their shinning long black hair, their multicoloured sarongs setting off the coffee cream colour of their smooth shoulders and the delicate gliding movements of their small feet - well not all of them - some had heavy feet he remarked, they had probably never worn shoes.
Suwondo stood up, he was a tall well built man, he extended his hand and warmly welcomed Brodzski and then Ennis, inviting them to be seated.
Ennis saw Marie Isitahib and Benoit Lamerte, from the local representative office of the National Credit Banque de Paris, who had just arrived. He saw that Marie Isitahib also wore a flower in her hair; he grudgingly admitted to himself that she did not look too bad. Suwondo and Brodzski, both in the exaggeratedly gallant fashion, went to meet her.
Haryono arrived and according to protocol he was seated to facing Suwondo next to Brodzski, while his director general was on Bob Suwondo’s right, and naturally out of deference to the only woman present, Marie Isitahib, was placed on his left. She was the representative of Brodzski’s latest bank. The lead bank of the pool, that Lombard had meticulously engineered and which would finance the purchase of the mill by the operating company, from the consortium, whose role was to construct and delivery the mill in full operating conditions.
The Maitre d’hôtel took their orders for cocktails, whilst they made polite conversation, sampling an assortment of exotic appetisers that had been placed before them whilst waiting for the drinks.
The drinks were served, and Bob Suwondo proposed a toast to their partnership and success. They lifted their glasses in response, Brodzski positively glowed with satisfaction and pleasure, it was a great moment as they approached the long awaited conclusion.
The project had resumed its course after a series of almost catastrophic events; it was a miracle that they were assembled there at that table, with an almost fresh and enthusiastic team. They were a few short steps from the constitution of the operating company and the signature of the different agreements and contracts, between the shareholders for the constitution of the Indonesian operating company with its capital paid up, and banks for the loans needed to place contract with the consortium for the construction of the whole mill complex.
The conversation then turned to Brodzski, being the guest of honour, and with his whisky comfortable in his hand he settled down to recounting one of his innumerable anecdotes concerning a long forgotten minister he had known. It was his way of illustrating his long experience in high places.
Bob Suwondo was smooth and played the perfect host. He was not a talkative man, he was rather a listener and he listened with attention to Brodzski, prompting him at the right moments with the right questions. During the dinner Danny played his continuing role of organiser, making signs to the maitre d’hôtel, ensuring that each of Suwondo’s guests were served with exactly what they wanted.
A multitude of dishes were served with good French wines. Brodzski indulged himself as the perfect guest, sampling every dish that was placed on the table with relish, encouraged by Suwondo and Danny. The food was excellent, and the atmosphere perfect with old consortium partners happy with the unexpected relief at having finally found a suitable successor to Sutrawan.
Long live the king, thought Ennis reflecting stoically on the short memory and lack of human sentiment in men and their business.
The dinner passed quickly in an ambience of satisfaction and pleasure without any untimely incidents, it had been perfect, an excellent augur to the future.
The following day Brodzski would initial the agreements with Suwondo. The rescue operation had been completed; Barito was back on the rails after months of doubt and difficulties. Bob Suwondo’s arrival on the scene and last minute acceptance to take Sutrawan’s place, been a gift from the gods, it had been almost too much to hope for; it still seemed almost too good to be true.
They left the restaurant in an effusion of mutual enthusiasm and congratulations. It was ten o’clock as they parted, quite unlike a Sutrawan dinner, which would have continued late into the night. Brodzski wished Lombard a good flight, leaving him in last minute discussions with his two bankers and Axelmann who joined him in the hotel limousine that had been booked to drive him to the airport, where his Air France flight to Paris was scheduled to leave just after midnight. Brodzski was driven in Bob Suwondo’s limousine to the hotel; Ennis and Branet followed in Danny Lau’s Mercedes.
In the hotel lobby after Suwondo’s departure, Brodzski proposed that they take a nightcap in the Pendopo bar. It was just ten thirty; still a little early to turn in. Brodzski was flushed with success. He ordered drinks including a whisky for himself and commenced to reminisce with Branet on the friends and enemies they had known, on the difficulties that he had always overcome in face of great odds.
There was no stopping Brodzski, he ordered another round of drinks, puffing on the large cigar he had collected at the Oasis.
Ennis began to despair that his moment of nostalgia would go on forever, he was beginning to feel tired after the dinner, his face felt the rictus induced by the fixed smile he had worn throughout the whole evening.
They laughed as Brodzski called for another round of drinks, Ennis was cornered, he was part of the audience, and there was no way he could escape. The waiter set down the drinks and Brodzski took a large swig from his whisky.
‘It’s not a bit hot here?’ he said placing his glass on the table.
It was quite the opposite; the Pendopo bar was always a little chilly with it’s overpowered air-conditioning system, especially late in the evening, when it was set at full power to evacuate the dense haze of tobacco smoke.
Brodzski loosened his tie and took out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his forehead; he continued his story, a little wearily.
He called the waiter again and asked for a glass of water with ice, which he sipped alternately with his whisky. He continued encouraged by Branet’s laughs. It was well after midnight when Ennis sneaked a glance at his watch. Brodzski had begun to look tired and his face seemed to have become pale.
‘Listen I think we’ll call it a day, we can’t overdo a good thing. I’m going to my room, you’ll have to excuse me I think it’s the stress and fatigue,’ he croaked, at the same time pushing himself up from the armchair with some effort.
‘I’ll accompany you,’ said Branet, Ennis said he would follow and called for the bill, signing it to his room.
The hall was very long and he caught up with them just as they crossed the main lobby, Brodzski weaved slightly as he walked. It was always difficult to tell whether it was his bad leg, his age or overindulgence in the whisky.
They took the lift to his suite. Brodzski fumbled in his pockets for the key with one hand, and with the other supported himself from the door pillar. Ennis took his gently took his arm which trembled, and helped him, feeling in his jacket pocket where he found the room key, and opened the door. Branet assisted Brodzski holding him by the elbow to the rattan sofa, where he flopped down heavily, he was breathing hard and pulled weakly at his tie and collar with shaking hands, he was looking not at all well.
‘Are you well Antoine?’
Brodzski made no sign, his eyes were almost closed.
‘You’re not well old fellow, I think we’ll call a doctor,’ said Branet looking at Ennis for agreement.
Brodzski said nothing as Ennis undid his tie for him, his mouth hung open and small beads of transpiration formed on his forehead and ran down into his eyebrows.
Branet picked up the telephone and dialled the hotel operator.
‘I hope we can get somebody at this time of the evening, it’s already past midnight.’
Brodzski looked like a sick, helpless, orang-utan, Ennis thought as he looked at the old man. His mouth hung open, traces of spittle stuck in the corners of his lips; his face wore a blank expression. His condition was starting to look serious. Branet talked urgently on the phone to the operator, who replied that the hotel doctor would be called immediately, but as it was Saturday evening, it could take a little time.
Ennis suggested to Branet that they help him to the bed. He weighed a ton, it was almost farcical as they struggled to lift him, Branet was a small man and Brodzski an almost dead weight of eighty-five kilos. They staggered under his weight to the bedroom and literally dumped him on the bed, he rolled over and vomited.
‘Christ! This is more serious than I thought,’ Ennis said to Branet.
‘No, I think he’s tired, probably drunk too much.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Call for the doctor again, tell them it’s an emergency.’
Ennis went to the bathroom, bringing back two large towels and a smaller one that he had ran under the tap. He wiped his face with the wet towel, Brodzski was completely out. The odour was overpowering, he covered the vomit with the other towel.
‘What do we do now?’ Ennis asked.
‘Dont panic,’ Branet replied as he picked up the telephone, he asked if the Doctor was on his way, ‘he’ll be here in about ten minutes or so.’
Brodzski’s breathing was very shallow. Ennis felt for his pulse, it was difficult to find, it wasn’t surprising, Ennis thought as he felt the faint beat.
They unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt and trousers; so that he could breath easier. Ennis switched the air-conditioning on to the maximum. The bell rang; Branet went to the door and opened it to a slight well-dressed Indonesian carrying an attaché case.
‘I’m Doctor Sutini,’ he announced as Branet let him into the room.
He went to the bed in a business like manner, and leaning over Brodzski he lifted an eyelid with one hand, and felt the jugular for his pulse with the other.
‘He’s been drinking?’
Branet replied that he had eaten well and had drunk, but not excessively.
‘He’s under medication?’ he questioned glancing at the array of medicaments on the bedside table.
‘Well I think that he’s been taking something to sleep, but I don’t know what else.’
‘I think we’re going to have him taken to the clinic.’ It was a decision rather than a suggestion, ‘I can’t say what the problem is, but he needs observation and care, I’ll call for an ambulance if that’s all right with you,’ said Dr Sutini.
He used the phone and made an outside call, asking for an ambulance at once.
They accompanied Brodzski to the Thamrin Polyclinic, in the ambulance, it’s sirens wailing in the heavy late Saturday night traffic. The Polyclinic was located in a modern building nearby the Sheraton. The ambulance pulled into the entrance of the emergency service, where he was quickly wheeled away by the night staff. Ennis answered questions in the admission service and was then led to the waiting area. After about an hour, they were shown to a private room on the third floor, where Brodzski was installed in bed, several tubes were already protruding from his mouth and nose.
Another person was with Dr Sutini; from his identification badge they saw that he was also a doctor.
‘Mr Ennis, I’m sorry but it looks like Mr Brodzski is rather poorly, it’s a little bit early to say precisely how serious his condition is as we do not know his medical past record, and he’s not a young man.’
Shit, Ennis thought glancing at his watch as if that would help, it was just after two in the morning, he had not seen the time go by. He looked at Branet hoping he would know what to do.
‘In any case gentlemen, there’s nothing we can do tonight, except keep him under observation. We’ll see again in the morning, he’s comfortable for the moment, not in good condition but he’s resting,’ the other doctor said.
Well he’s the doctor he should know, thought Ennis resignedly.
‘What time should we come back in the morning?’
‘Call me at nine, my name is Sutini.’
They left the room and took a lift to the ground floor; where they got into one of the battered taxi and returned to the hotel.
‘Okay, let’s go and find Axelmann...maybe we should inform Madame Brodzski?’
‘No, it’s late,’ he said looking at his watch, it was after two thirty, ‘wait until the morning it’s not that dramatic for the moment, and look, I’m tired after all of this, perhaps you can fill Axelmann in and call me tomorrow.’
Ennis was a little surprised; it was as if Branet was trying to avoid too much involvement. In case he too felt tired to argue and there certainly wasn’t much more they could do that night. He called Axelmann who seemed to be in a profound sleep.
Ennis was woken by the call he had ordered at seven thirty. He looked out of his window onto the dark green trees in the gardens below and contemplated the day ahead. He wondered if had dreamt the events of the previous evening, the phone rang again, it was Axelmann.
‘Bonjour, ça va.’
‘Oui, ça va.’
‘Let’s meet for breakfast in half an hour; I can tell you all the details, then we’ll go directly to the clinic.’
‘What happened did he fall down…was drunk or something?’
‘No, it’s more serious than that.’
‘Did you already call the clinic?’
‘No, we’ll go directly after we’ve had some coffee.’
They arrived at nine and were about to enquire at the reception when Dr Sutini walked out of the lift.
‘Good morning Doctor, we’ve come to see Mr Brodzski, how is he?’
‘Hello, let’s sit down over there a moment.’
They sat on in a corner of the waiting area, a little distance away from the other visitors.
‘I’m sorry to say, Mr Ennis, it appears more serious than we may have thought, Mr Brodzski has suffered from a stroke, and for the moment he has not recovered consciousness. I’m very sorry. Would you like to see him? It will have to be very brief.’
The room was cool, clean and white, there were plastic tubes everywhere, the blinds were almost closed and a respirator amplified his low breathing. Brodzski’s face was relaxed, smooth, almost young looking, too young. Christ, he thought to himself, it’s really bad, w’re fucked, he not coming out of that soon, if at all.
They simply stood there helpless, they sensed with sudden realisation the dramatic turn of events.
Jesus fucking Christ, what a moment for this to happen, just my bloody luck, what will happen without him, thought Ennis, at least the Ohlsson will be happy, he bitterly rationalised.
Ennis glanced at Axelmann he was as just as lost. Sutini looked on with a professionally detachment, though ready with a sympathetic understanding, he had seen the same scene so many times before.
What do we do now, Ennis asked himself again, he needed time to think. In any case there was nothing to do at the hospital. Everything would now be stalled; all that work for this, the project was cursed with bad luck. Now all the rats will want to quit the boat and what about the bloody money?
Back at the hotel, Ennis gently probed Axelmann, but he was not very talkative. Ennis saw that he was thinking and probably wanted to get his ideas together before he spoke.
In any case there was not any time to loose, Ennis told him so. The others would soon be onto them, knowing that there was a lot to be gained or lost. Brodzski at his age was not going to make a miraculous recovery, if they looked at things realistically. Ennis thought that the Indonesians and Taiwanese would take a fatalistic attitude as they had with Sutrawan and the others, but the Europeans, especially the French had put a lot of money into the business and would want action.
Brodzski was the catalyst, without him the consortium members would fight and squabble. Lombard was not liked, the Finns would want out. At Papcon there would be a struggle for succession-if the business continued.
Axelmann already probably had his eyes fixed on succession. But what was more important was the money! Axelmann and Ennis were the only ones who knew all the details of the seed money banked in Singapore. Finntech would certainly want to get their hands on that as well as a few others.
They went to the hotel coffee shop and found a discrete corner. The morning rush was over, they ordered coffee and toast and Ennis again tried a little gentle forcing it was not the moment to be diplomatic and hold back.
‘Let’s put the cards on the table,’ Ennis started, ‘he’s looking bad, he’ll probable have to be flown home if he is going to get any decent treatment, and his wife will naturally want him home not in a hotel 15,000 kilometres away.’
‘Sure.’
‘What’s going to happen to the business now, we have to decide who will take over, what about you?
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’ll we have to decide now, we can’t leave things up in the air.’
‘We should take some time to think.’
‘No, because if we don’t act quick, somebody else will do it for us.’
‘Yeah,’ Axelmann replied indifferently.
It was not easy and Ennis pushed on.
‘Look if you don’t do something Strecker or Lombard will, and maybe not in our favour. I’ve put a lot into this, not to speak of Finntech, and so have you, we are in a strong position, I will back you.’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Well I think we should inform all persons concerned that you have taken over as acting Managing Director, and that all partners here and in Europe have been informed. That will forestall any sudden decisions, it’ll give us breathing time to put our follow up together.’
‘We’ll tell them Brodzski has been hospitalised, but we don’t have to tell them all the details, from the business point of view everything is in order, the agreement with Suwondo doesn’t depend just on Brodzski, it’s with the consortium. Whatever happens though, there’s no way Suwondo will sign until it’s decided who legally represents Papcon and the consortium.’
He did not say anything, he stirred his coffee, and then he took a breath.
‘Okay, I agree, we’ll be screwed if we don’t, we should also try to keep Brodzski here.’
‘What?’
‘Keep Brodzski here, it’s reasonable, he’s probably too sick to travel in any case, but the important point is that he is the President of the company and the company’s articles of association don’t allow for any particular action in the case of illness of the President. There has to be a shareholders meeting to decide what to do, but myself as acting Managing Director, we can carry on for at least a couple of months, before the shareholders can get a quorum together. Papcon is important but it’s not their sole consideration, but remember Brodzski was the prime mover, there will be a vacuum and I suppose they will let us carry on whilst they think it over.’
‘So if Brodzski is hospitalised here, the drama is almost out of sight out of mind, what about Savio and Micaletto.’
‘Savio’s in Cambodia and we’ll inform Micaletto last, it’ll be too late for him to do anything.’
‘Okay, first we have to inform his family, then I’ll fax the shareholders individually and confidentially, without over dramatising the event. You inform the consortium members that we are continuing here. I’ll be back in Singapore, as planned next week. You go on to Melbourne as planned and we can meet on you’re way back.’
‘What about Brodzski?’
‘Madame Brodzski and his family will look after him. I’m not going to get too involved with all of that. I’ll see Doctor Sutini and inform him that he shouldn’t be moved until the family is here and gives instructions. Budiman will help them out.’
‘Shall we call