Heart of the Outback (36 page)

In the afternoon, Les, who’d visited the city many times, took her on a personal tour of the more popular places: the zoo and the botanical gardens. That night they dined at one of CJ’s favourite haunts then nightclub-hopped until the wee hours. Tomorrow, though, would be all business: a day-long meeting with the Yakismoto consortium to thrash out final details and then sign the contract for the Cooktown development.

Francey studied the small conference room assigned to them by the hotel’s management. Ash panelled walls, a long teak-topped conference table, leather chairs, panoramic views of the harbour from the floor to ceiling windows, several tastefully subdued watercolours on the walls and a beverage making
facility in a timber panelled alcove completed the picture. All very pleasant and efficient. She was very nervous but very excited also.

She would be addressing four topnotch wealthy businessmen led by Nikko Yakismoto, a renowned Japanese industrialist, on the design aspects and building schedule of the Cooktown project. She had given presentations before, some to illustrious Sydney clients, but this would be her most important presentation. And in a way it didn’t help that CJ had absolute confidence in her. She wished he didn’t, for if she fouled up, he would be all the more disappointed and, strangely, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Les came into the room with a sheaf of documents, portfolios and a set of rolled up plans under his arm. He glanced at the presentation clipboard and the overhead projector, saw they were ready, then nodded at Francey.

“They’re on their way up, CJ has just met them in the foyer.”

Francey nodded.

“Nervous?”

“You bet!”

“Don’t be, you’ll be great.” He came up to her and took both of her hands in his. “The consortium wants this project to go ahead, they know it’s an excellent financial deal for them, otherwise they’d be investing their money elsewhere. We’re doing all the hard work and they’re just putting in a chunk of the capital. Out of all of them,” he confided, “Nikko is the one to watch. He’s sharp and he’s known to be hard-headed. He was educated in England so he’s fluent in English, the others only have a smattering so they’ll have an
interpreter in tow. Oh, yes, remember to allow extra time for that during your presentation.”

The door opened and several men, including CJ, filed in. Immediately, one of them caught Francey’s attention. Immaculately dressed in a white shirt and patterned tie and a beige lightweight suit for the tropics, the man exuded an air of self-confidence and importance. He was about Francey’s height, with black, short-cropped hair flecked with grey at the temples. Very distinguished. She looked from him to CJ and back again. Two strong-willed, successful men. It would be interesting to see who would eventually gain the upper hand.

CJ made the introductions. “Francey, I’d like you to meet Nikko Yakismoto, and his associates Ti Masuku, Oke Narishima and Edmund Kope. Mr Chee, on your left, will translate as necessary.”

Each man bowed slightly in turn to Francey.

“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Spinetti,” Nikko took over the conversation as he shook her hand in western tradition, “I have been most impressed with your design work.” He studied her features openly then turned to CJ, “You are most fortunate to have such an attractive as well as clever assistant.”

“Thank you,” Francey said as a matter of form, and despite her inclination to make spot decisions on people, reserved her opinion of Nikko Yakismoto. She had caught something in the way he looked from CJ to her and back again. As if he wanted to say more but Japanese politeness forbade it. With her curious nature she longed to know the relevance behind the look.

“Well, gentlemen, we’ve a lot to get through. If you don’t care for refreshments I suggest we get started,” CJ said authoritatively. He wasn’t going to relinquish the head position to Nikko. What’s more he didn’t particularly like his sly glance at Francey. Nikko was known to like the ladies, even though he was, supposedly, a happily married man. He’d bear watching during the negotiations. “I’ll hand things over to Francey Spinetti. She’s going to go through the design with you and explain the building schedule.” CJ grinned as he gestured with his right hand for Francey to take the podium.

“Thanks, CJ.” She waited for everyone to be seated then she began. “You each have portfolios in front of you with scaled down drawings of the project site which includes sketches of the first golf course, the accommodation complex and the five star hotel. I know you’re familiar with the plans but there are several additional changes I should point out.

“Stage two will consist of a second golf course and the third stage will be another group of condominiums close to the hotel complex which will form a triangular arrangement of rented apartments, privately owned condominiums and the hotel itself. The details are marked as stage three.”

“If I may enquire, Miss Spinetti, what is the overall building time for the complete complex?”

“That’s covered in the appendix to the specifications, Mr Yakismoto. The estimate is five years.” She noted a low murmur from the Yakismoto team.

Nikko frowned. “That is a long time. My colleagues and I were hoping that —”

“Keep your shirt on, Nikko. The reason it’s being spread over five years is explained in detail. We want to minimise capital outlay by building the first golf course, the condominiums and the hotel. The hotel should, on expected use, pay for itself in five years. We’ll sell the condominiums off the plan and as they’re built they’ll pay for that part of the project and the golf course.” Frowning, he took a breath. “Later, we’ll borrow capital for the second golf course and the third stage will, when it’s sold off, pay for stages two and three. I think five years for all stages is a reasonable time frame.”

“Yes, admirable, CJ.” Nikko paused, his gaze still focused on Francey. “My colleagues and I believe the demand for such condominiums will be great in my country. We believe we could sell all the condominiums, stages one and three, at the one time which would repay the loan and pay for the golf course and the hotel. Then we could borrow to build the second golf course and use profits from the hotel to pay off the second loan. All this could take place, we believe, over a period of three and a half years, four at the most, rather than five.”

“Mr Yakismoto, if I may,” Francey regained control. “One reason why it’s proposed to take the five years is that this is a project of considerable size. Labour, freight and supply of building materials, council permission and the weather itself — for several months of the year Cooktown is unseasonably hot and there’s the monsoon period as well — will slow the project’s progress.”

“I understand, Miss Spinetti, but surely all this is debatable, a matter of how we prioritise the building of the complex?” Nikko queried.

“Of course, of course,” CJ replied with some impatience. Nikko either had some bee in his bonnet or he was trying to take control of the project for himself. Well, he’d see about that. “That’s what we’re here for, to iron out any last minute problems or glitches. Les, what do you think about Nikko’s shorter time frame?”

The discussion between what was optimally desirable and not possible due to the siting of the complex raged on for the next two hours, with Francey doing on the spot rough calculations on re-costing the project the way Nikko’s consortium had suggested. She could tell from CJ’s tight expression that he wanted things his way, though Nikko’s plan had merits. Unfortunately Nikko hadn’t taken into consideration the difficulties of the site and the weather. She could also see that both men were rapidly reaching an impasse and by lunchtime negotiations had all but ground to a halt.

Over lunch, CJ growled to Francey and Les, “Well, what do you two think? Can we get it all together within a three and a half year time frame?”

“No way,” Les shook his head.

“If you can compromise to four, it might be possible, and in a way Nikko’s plan has several good points. The return on the investment would come in earlier, which would lessen our borrowing costs,” Francey offered.

“Damn Nikko, always wanting things his way. There are other backers I could approach …” CJ muttered, thoroughly disgruntled.

“Why?” Francey queried, “You’ve put the hard yards in with Yakismoto. I don’t think he’s being unreasonable. Let me have twenty minutes before we reconvene to do some more calculations.”

“Okay, go for it, girl.”

Francey let the hot shower wash the travails of the day away. It had taken until 6 p.m. that day to finalise the building schedule, get the contract signed and confirm borrowing details and an approximate starting date, depending on council approval and environmental studies being satisfactorily completed.

She smiled as she towelled herself dry. Goodness knows what the outcome might have been had she not been there. CJ had been his usual hard-headed self, wanting his own way, initially unwilling to see the positive side of Yakismoto’s plan. Her and Les’ commonsense approach and preparedness to compromise had saved the day, and possibly the project.

She had watched CJ’s rage bubble and boil within as Nikko tried to exert control over the proceedings, which made her wonder why CJ bothered to do business with someone who obviously irked him. She knew her employer had enough business clout to attract any number of investors to such a project. In the end she guessed CJ chose Nikko despite the negatives between them because of his extraordinary financial
and
political connections in Japan.

Nikko had wanted her to be the project manager but thankfully CJ had stood firm on that and had said no. The thought of being based in Cooktown for several years, or having to commute regularly
backwards and forwards from there to Mt Isa, and being away from Steve, had not been a pleasant one.

Once again she grinned, this time with self-satisfaction. Her baptism of fire, her first dealing in the exalted business world to which CJ belonged had gone exceedingly well. She was pleased with herself and she sensed that CJ and Les had been pleased with the way she had operated. Opening the wardrobe door she peered at the contents. Tonight CJ said they’d celebrate a successful deal so, which outfit would she choose?

Billy Wontow casually mounted the steps of the Mt Isa police station and went up to the front desk.

“Hello, Neil,” he said to the station’s senior constable. “Is Steve in?”

Neil Smith, a nuggetty, ruddy-faced man of about thirty with a thatch of ginger hair and a face covered in freckles shook his head negatively. “You’ve missed him by half an hour, he’ll be away for the rest of the day. Is it important, Billy? Can I help you?”

Billy shrugged. “Maybe.” He lifted what had been trailing in his right hand, carefully placing a long thin item wrapped in a sugar bag on the counter top. “When I was doin’ a bit of a clean up I found this behind a box in the tack room attached to Murrundi’s stables. It could have somethin’ to do with Richard Ambrose’s death. Might be what Steve’s been lookin’ for.”

“A rifle?”

“Yep. A Stinger. Dunno how it came to be in the tack room or who it belongs to though. All the rifles are kept locked up at the homestead, except for one
Mike Hunter has, and he keeps his under lock and key. I reckoned Steve might wanta take a look at this.”

“Did you handle it, Billy?”

Billy looked askance at the senior constable. “‘Course not, I know about fingerprints and all that stuff. Soon as I recognised it I bundled it into the sack and brought it straight in. Didn’t even tell CJ about it.”

“Good man.”

“Reckon I’ll leave it and you can pass it on to Steve.”

Neil Smith nodded approvingly. “Will do, Billy. As soon as Steve returns.”

With an upward flick of his finger, denoting the conversation was over, the laconic Billy left the station.

“Comfortable?” Les asked.

“Mmm, and exhausted,” Francey replied as she sank deeper into the first class seat on Qantas flight Q212 returning to Sydney.

“It has been hectic,” Les agreed. “Trips with CJ are like that. The man doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase, ‘take the time to smell the roses’.”

Francey chuckled. “You’re right.”

“You handled it all well, you know, considering …”

Francey managed to disguise the yawn with her hand. “You think so? I’m glad.” She pressed a button and the seat reclined. “Wake me when we reach Sydney, but not before, for anything. Okay?”

“Okay.” Les’ head turned to look down at her. With her eyes closed he had the luxury of being able
to study her without impunity. Miss Francey Spinetti, daughter of Italian migrants had been a hit wherever they’d gone. In Singapore her commonsense and CJ’s respect for her intellect had helped secure the Cooktown project without a toe-to-toe fight with Nikko Yakismoto and it had been named the Jasmine International Condominium and Hotel Resort. Then, in Hong Kong, she had sat for hours and absorbed details of CJ’s investments there and accompanied them on all the inspection tours.

In London, CJ had given her some time off to explore the sights and architectural delights. She’d been off at first light till late in the afternoon, independently finding her way around one of the largest cities in the world, absorbing it all and coming back to the hotel with enthusiastic accounts of where she’d been and what she’d seen. They’d gone out every night for dinner and to a show or nightclub. She’d been delighted by the opera
La Boheme
at Covent Garden and the live theatre show of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s
Sunset Boulevarde
— for which he’d managed to get seats at an obscene price. And she had of course loved the several cocktail parties they’d attended at the residences of businesspeople who lived in Belgrave Square and Knightsbridge.

He had enjoyed watching her. She was like a big kid, her enthusiasm for new experiences knew no bounds and he soon realised that CJ was getting as big a kick out of her enjoying herself as she was. Not for the first time Les wondered whether the old man was falling in love with the lovely Australian-Italian woman. He knew CJ had been angered by Yakismoto’s attentions towards Francey and since
they’d departed Sydney he had pondered the question about CJ’s depth of interest in her without securing a satisfactory answer.