Putting a suit and tie on this morning was quite a battle. Lester had made the original appointment last week with another of Melbourne's largest investment advisors, but then decided he needed better clothing; now he was struggling with the discomfort of a lounge suit on a stinking hot summer day.
He had feigned an attack of luxurious laziness until Annette slouched off to work dressed in practically nothing, and see-through everywhere at that. She’d showed off a well-proportioned bum in those light cotton threads, he mused as he rolled lazily off the stripped bed; not at all your nubile female. A glass of fruit juice - too hot for anything more and he set about putting on the trappings of Roger Conley, businessman. With a little more confidence, he'd buy up on smart (and lighter) clothes out of his remaining savings, but that might as well wait a short while. After all, it should only be three weeks or so.
Darlington commodities had been an easy choice: the way they were advertising themselves as investment market leaders, they might well have been looking for him personally. Nobody had a larger block advertisement in the Yellow Pages, so they had to be the best.
So, although the drive into the city was every bit as unpleasant as he expected, the air-conditioned climate in their centre-city office washed over him like a wave of surf.
He played to win. Time was short now, and the diamond option was the one means of laundering his takings that he hadn't really pursued to finality. The lecturer at that evening course had brushed quickly over precious metals, precious stones and objet d'art in one session, leaving the impression that these were exotic areas, not for the amateur. He'd probably have left it at that but for those two well-published traits - diamonds were virtually untraceable, and about the most compact form of wealth.
So here he was, and Alex Zenda was effusive in his willingness to help: though that might have been after he mentioned the $5 million bequest he was expecting momentarily.
The key question was what could be done quickly.
"We don't set out to keep much in Melbourne, but our sources are the best in the world. Give me a couple of weeks, we'll shop the markets of Asia and Europe, and build you a really spectacular collection. What value did you have in mind?"
Searching for the weak points, "About three million dollars," Lester answered, "but I won't really be able to give you a couple of weeks. I want to finalise the transaction by the New Year, thought the funds won't be available for a couple of weeks yet."
The jaw dropped, as Zenda began to wonder, almost aloud, whether his prospect was real, really naive, or totally unreal.
They sorted out the details of the projected timetable carefully, Lester carefully resisting the invitation to explain why the rush.
"Well, I'm confident we are the best local firm to meet your requirements, but we have to scale it down a bit," Zenda was letting him down slowly. "Inside two or three weeks, we'd get all you want, mostly through our Indian contacts, but protecting your interests will take a little more time. I understand your travel uncertainties, but we do need that extra couple of weeks. We would be happy to act as your agent in your absence - that's normal procedure, you know."
Not deflected, "What could you do in that first week, say to January sixth?" Lester asked.
"It would take a little research," Zenda thought aloud, "but I'd say an investment of two million would be the prudent maximum. Now be aware, others may offer you more, but only at inflated prices. It's a difficult way to go about this kind of thing, you see. Our certification records have to be rock-solid on top investment quality stones, the flawless and very near perfect. We worry for the client's welfare when we have to hurry such an important transaction. I do wish you'd give some more thought to our buying and holding in safe deposit on your behalf."
Disappointed, Lester agreed to think about it, and they cleared up the financial arrangements.
Thinking about the storage task, Lester queried what volume there would be in, say, $2 million in good quality diamonds.
"Assuming we could get you the top-quality two - or three - carat goods I know you'd want, you'd find there might be as few as twenty stones in all."
Leaving the room for a moment, Zenda was back with something less than a centimeter in diameter. "This is very poor quality, you understand, but it gives you a feel for the size of a good investment stone."
His hoard would easily fit a cigarette packet, he estimated, if they got the stones they wanted.
The advisor made a last, fruitless attempt to secure a deposit: it would solve all their concerns, Lester was assured, because they would be authorised to start work on the collection right away. No, that would be premature, Lester thought; there was a bit of thinking yet to be done. Diamonds were only one of the possibilities. And so they parted.
Driving back out to Caulfield, sweltering despite the efforts of the valiant car air conditioner to compensate for the high thirties outside, Lester decided to call in on his Oakleigh Bank. It was time to start training the Manager there not to panic when - if - he suddenly scored a large deposit.
Again, grinding his teeth with boredom, he passed a twenty-minute wait outside the Manager's office. Still, the air conditioning lessened the burden, and it gave him all the excuse he needed not to dally on specifics. After all, he didn't know whether it was two or ten million, and it might be just before or just after Christmas. Bothered a little himself, he wondered how a staid suburban bank manager would view such apparently casual control of such a large transfer.
Better throw himself on the man's mercies, he finally decided as he was ushered in.
"I've got a silly problem, sir," he started after the courtesies were dispensed with," and I really don't think you can help. I just want to keep you in the picture."
The manager put on a sympathetic half-smile, obviously ready for anything, with his mouth shut and hands under the desk.
"You might remember I mentioned a few months ago - no, that was your Accountant - anyway, I've been waiting for my father's will to be probated, and his solicitors say it's practically cleared now. The problem is, it's probably going to be the last thing they clear up this year, and the funds will probably be transferred around Christmas."
"How much is involved, Mr. Conley?"
"That's one of the problems. There are some uncertainties about Estate duties, but I was advised the total would be more than $1 million, quite a bit more than a million pounds."
Well, that's going to change your life, isn't it!" the manager was all hearty, and hands came back above the desk level. "So what do you see is the problem?"
"There are some things need to be finalised, and the full amount may be transferred over a period. It's in the U.K. - did I mention it?"
"I guessed it might be when you mentioned Estate duties and pounds. It's handled differently here, as you may be aware."
"My problem is I could be overseas when the first deposit is made, and I don't want it to sit in my cheque account for any length of time. Can I leave instructions or something like that?"
"Do you know how much the first installment will be?" the manager asked.
"No, not really. The Solicitors' last letter spoke in terms of a final four million pounds, but they emphasised things would change. They didn't seem to know which way, either. It's all very unsettling, all this uncertainty with such a large sum."
The manager understood, and sympathised heartily. They talked about some of the possible outcomes, and the old boy assured him that wasn't the way they ran the Bank. He was sure they could work together well.
Why not use a local Solicitor to draw up a flexible letter of instruction - Don't like Solicitors? Well, that's understandable, if you don’t have a relationship in place. Phone the London Solicitors? I see, they don't know any more than the vague letter!
They decided the best plan was for Lester - well, Roger - to call in with his own letter of introduction, a day or two before he went overseas. By then, he might know a bit more of the facts. The manager assured him most financial transactions could be managed over the Christmas break. He could do a lot worse than invest the whole installment in Treasury Notes until his return. Yes, probably.
He'd do better than Treasury Bonds, a satisfied Lester calculated, as he drove back to the house to change. On the other hand, that manager had accepted the likelihood of a large deposit of uncertain size, with slightly uncertain timing. That expectation was important - mustn't have him panicking, checking up on phony addresses or phone numbers.
Changed back into work gear, open neck, shorts and short sleeves, Lester made the Mulgrave blockhouse a little before noon. The place was in turmoil. Ken Murray had taken the bit between his teeth and issued that edict:
IMMEDIATE:
Systems and Database staff are not permitted in Operations areas. A meeting of supervisors will be held at 3 p.m. this afternoon to discuss any further steps necessary to ensure compliance with this security requirement.
In other words, it's happened, and you can address all complaints to Fred who will pass them up the line.
Over lunch, the Systems and Database people, about a dozen in all, combined to compare notes. The Database staff really didn't care at all; they had been suggesting for months that they should not be involved in Operations routines, and this step gave them back at least a half person. There were advantages for the Systems Programmers, too. This morning they got the two extra screens that Rod and Henry had needed months ago, and now somebody else would have to do all their library work, as well as loading and unloading all their tape materials.
Generally it was agreed nobody liked the high-handed approach of a dictum from "God," everyone felt a bit miffed about being under a security cloud, but it was going to hurt Operations (right in the overtime bill) more than anybody else. Everybody agreed over a sociable lunch that it was going to be nice to have someone else to do all the running around.
Back at his desk, Lester pondered the implications. Whatever chance he'd had of damaging that reel of tape, that chance had gone now. So there goes the ten million, straight to the Tax man. On the other hand, he still had the two other possibilities. The Adelaide development account had looked good - except how could he get in and plant an extra payment authorisation? He had to be there to change the batch totals, too, so the computer would go ahead and process the payment. He'd find a way, he was hopeful, over the next week. He knew quite well how many half-trained Ops people there were; they couldn't keep this ban in place for any time at all.
Could they?
Over to Rod's desk he strolled, deciding to file the job he'd actually completed on Friday and pitch in on another of Rod's tougher ones. The younger man was on top, however, making good progress on his new screen with his last remaining task, the testing of a fairly simple installation job. Seeing a satisfactory conclusion in sight in a couple of days, he suggested Lester go to hell, home, Fred Hart or anywhere else equally distant.
Fred was delighted to help with a task, however. Evaluations of possible new purchases had been ignored completely for several weeks now, and there were at least three potential users getting impatient. Perhaps Lester would be good enough to tackle these?
It wasn't his ideal: his mind was going in circles with the "loss" of the Tax millions, and he'd have preferred something that demanded less constant, untiring concentration. Reading up on a new software package took a lot of dedication; missing, or misunderstanding, one small requirement might mean that an apparently attractive program just could not be used on their site. If the package cost, say, over a hundred grand, it was a big responsibility.
It wasn't his choice, however. He got paid to work on the file he was pointed at. In the next week or so, he had to try to change that, but with this damned ban in place... Back to the desk.
The first of the proposals looked like a snatch, so he sharpened up his concentration and ploughed in. The Properties Division wanted to buy a new financial modeling package, one with much more sophisticated Discounting and Return options than the Centre's old standard offering. Control Department had used the same arguments, he'd remembered, to justify the new package he'd evaluated three months back, the one they were now expecting to be delivered early in the New Year. Properties just weren’t aware of all those details, he suspected. Paul had borrowed that advance copy of the user manual for some reason, so he just went and borrowed it back. Paul was on the Problem Desk this week, far too busy to care about any of his current projects.
One by one, Lester checked off the facilities required on the proposal against the details in Control's advance manual.
It looked good. As he set out then to compare manual to wish list, his mind wandered back to this morning's discussion with the diamond expert. He really didn't have a lot of satisfactory answers or firm prospects.
With three weeks, they could invest maybe four million, but in a week? Perhaps two, if they could get the right stones. And if they couldn't?
If they got the right stones, maybe there'd only be twenty smallish, perfect gems. But if they couldn't?
He didn't have a lot of facts, and three weeks after the event there’d be a lot of clever bookies poking over the traces. Too long for comfort! Despite their obvious attractions, diamonds had their problems, too. He was, he realised, on the brink of needing firm plans for the whole laundering process.
Diamonds were a problem, but the Financial Modeling request wasn't. A note recommending the originator reviews the "attached manual copy, describing a package already due for implementation in the New Year."
Last thing, he'd have to sweet-talk Fred's girl into copying that blasted software manual - but she'd gone home. It was after seven, and he should, too. Get it done tomorrow.