Three Marketeers Read online

  ‘And bring the sod to our knees,’ added Vidu.

  As the three walked towards the builder and his minions, crossing long serving-tables of hors d’oeuvres—corn stuffed with caviar, smoked salmon, asparagus, tuna, and avocado, among other items—Leena appeared from behind a Swedish group, walked round an Italian contingent, and stopped right before Balraj.

  ‘Oh no!’ lamented Rishi. ‘This woman couldn’t find a better time.’

  ‘It’s her, Karan,’ said Vidu under his breath.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Leena, my ex.’

  ‘Oh. A good-looking woman, she is.’

  ‘Who’s she?’ asked Rishi curiously, walking behind them.

  ‘His ex.’

  ‘Oh. Not bad.’

  ‘Not bad what?’ questioned Vidu.

  ‘Balraj is our target, men,’ reminded Karan.

  ‘What’s she doing with him, Vidu?’ asked Rishi.

  ‘Am I supposed to know that?’

  ‘Damn,’ said Karan as Balraj, Leena, and others walked towards the exit of the hall.

  ‘Hey, where’s she going with him?’ Vidu was visibly anxious.

  Karan was disappointed. ‘We lost our only chance to remind him of our proposal.’

  ‘Let’s have a few drinks and get out of here,’ said Rishi.

  ‘Yeah. Long time,’ said Karan.

  They walked to the bar stocked with single malt whiskies, cognacs, and sensational wines.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ said Vidu.

  ‘Where to?’ enquired Rishi, as Karan requested for a large Glenfiddich.

  ‘I need to confirm something for myself,’ said Vidu.

  Leena and Balraj were in the three-bay suite.

  ‘There’s something magical about this place,’ remarked Balraj.

  ‘Like, sir?’ asked Leena, sitting near him.

  ‘Everything.’ There was a sparkle in his eyes. ‘Its regal interiors, unmatched cuisines, and …' he dropped his head in her direction, ‘its ladies.’

  Shyly, she got up and went to the wet bar to prepare another large of Chivas Regal for him and a small one for herself. Balraj rose to admire the luxury. He walked into the bedroom and smiled amorously. The dim light gave him ideas. He peeped into the attached bathroom and appreciated its spaciousness.

  Leena served him his refilled glass. Then she opened a wooden rack. After browsing for a while, she selected one disc and inserted it into a big player fitted in a shelf.

  ‘Ah. That makes the mood better. I like your taste,’ he said, throwing back his head as the music system played ‘Light My Fire’. ‘Can we smoke here?’

  ‘It’s a smoking floor, sir.’

  He extracted an expensive case of cigars and offered it to her.

  ‘I have my own stuff.’ She opened her bag and removed a pack of Classic Milds.

  ‘What’re you working as?’

  ‘Marketing manager.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’ He lit her cigarette and his cigar.

  She took a puff. ‘Two years. Earlier, I was with the Emperor Hotel in Singapore for four. Why? Giving me an offer?’

  ‘What do I have to offer to an able professional like you?’

  ‘My god, people can be so modest.’

  ‘Honestly. I’m still not big enough to hire someone like you.’ He swilled down his drink and sat at the dining table. ‘May I ask what makes the hot manager of Mayford want to hang around with me?’

  ‘Excuse me, sir.’ Leena was not startled but showed she was. ‘I am in the special hospitality team and—’

  ‘And you have to sleep with every delegate in the summit.’ He guffawed.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said politely.

  ‘Why did you come here in the first place?’ he asked, tapping some ash off his cigar.

  ‘Didn’t you ask me to give you company?’

  ‘Then stay and give me company.’ He held her hand. ‘Come on, beautiful, make me another one.’

  Obediently, she got up to fill his glass again.

  ‘Hey, Amy,’ Karan greeted a young woman from Denmark, whom he met in an afternoon session.

  ‘Good to see you again. Any luck?’ asked the thirty­-something CEO of a small software product company in Copenhagen. She was looking for a reseller in India.

  ‘Still wandering. How was it for you?’

  ‘No milestones achieved yet. Let’s see how things shape up. At present, I’m all excited about my Agra trip tomorrow,’ she said cheerfully, abandoning her hands upwards. ‘Why don’t you come along? Travelling alone is so boring.’

  ‘I wish I could, Amy, but you’ll meet many Europeans on the way.’

  ‘What a thorough asshole,’ muttered Vidu, standing near them, and downed some Bacardi from his glass.

  ‘Said something?’ asked Rishi.

  ‘Nothing you can help with, hellboy,’ snubbed Vidu.

  ‘Karan,’ called Sameera, coming towards them.

  ‘Sameera, meet Rishi Verma,’ said Karan, after wishing the Danish delegate good luck. ‘My serious, plain-speaking business partner.’

  ‘How are you, Rishi?’ In her purple silk sari, she caught the attention of many men in the hall.

  ‘Let me thank you for being of great help, Sameera,’ said Rishi.

  ‘Oh, don’t embarrass me.’

  ‘How’s Mayford treating you, Sameera?’ asked Vidu.

  ‘Mayford is treating me fine. What about you? Happy being an entrepreneur?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, it’s not so different from selling toiletries.’

  Sameera laughed.

  ‘Has Jaggi Balraj already left?’ asked Karan.

  ‘He is in his suite,’ she informed.

  ‘What is Leena’s business with this builder?’ Vidu couldn’t resist asking her.

  ‘No idea, Vidu.’

  ‘Just to inform you, I followed them when they left the hall. He took her to his suite and she’s still in there with him.’

  Sameera courteously excused herself. Karan preferred to help himself to some boiled prawn, while Rishi went for tuna, his favourite.

  They had been together for quite some time. Leena had not been able to extract any information that could be of value to Paresh. Worse, after finishing several rounds of the eighteen-year-old Scotch whisky, Balraj was now very drunk.

  ‘You are … a very sexy woman.’ He untied the knot in his bright green silk tie.

  ‘Thanks, sir. Only if you had a hotel, I could have worked with you … for you.’

  ‘Awh, cut that sir out.’ He pulled her hand, his eyes half-closed. ‘Come, slide yourself here.’

  Frightened, she obeyed and moved closer to him. He held her hand in his. ‘What if I buy this hotel … and … become your boss?’

  At last, he is talking, she thought. ‘Buy this hotel? You serious?’ She avoided saying ‘sir’, so as not to obstruct what was coming.

  ‘Jaggi Balraj doesn’t joke when it comes to business. I am going to buy a big stake in your hotel. Once that happens …’ he clenched his fists, ‘I’ll have your slit-eyed chairman thrown off the board. Then I’ll be the top guy around. Some plan, huh?’ He tried to wrap his arm round her waist.

  She resisted. ‘Let’s go for dinner.’

  ‘Dinner? What dinner?’ He drew her face close to his cigar-burnt lips. She resisted. ‘We aren’t going anywhere,’ he said, rose, staggered a bit, and pulled her arm.

  My resistance will only annoy him. She got up, and let him hold her.

  As they entered the bedroom, Balraj pushed her onto the bed, took off his jacket, and fell beside her.

  ‘Mr Verma,’ came an accented male voice from behind them. He was an old man from the UK, whom Rishi had met in a session.

  ‘Oh, Mr Higgins.’

  ‘And how has your day been?’ he asked, holding a small plate of sandesh.

  ‘Met many people. I’m hopeful,’ said Rishi and introduced his partners to him.

  ‘Mr Verma, I
want you and your men to meet one person,’ said Edward Higgins. ‘Come along with me.’

  They followed the man to the centre of the hall. There stood a group of men, all British but one Indian.

  ‘Dan, I want you to meet the enterprising young men I was talking about in the afternoon,’ said Higgins beamingly to the middle-aged, non-resident Indian as they approached the group. Then he turned to the directors of Freedom. ‘Dan Zabar is the chairman and partner of Windlyn Capital in London and a dear friend of mine. I did mention to him your search for an investor. His firm has invested in a number of ventures in Europe, Asia, and Africa. India is one of his preferred business destinations. Correct me if I am wrong, Dan.’

  Zabar was enjoying a piece of roasted lamb. ‘When were you ever wrong, Edward?’

  After the exchange of pleasantries, Karan asked, ‘Which part of India are you from, Mr Zabar?’

  ‘Born and brought up in Mumbai. Living in London for the past twenty years,’ said the man in a British accent.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ acknowledged Vidu, like a Britisher himself.

  ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ said Higgins. ‘I will take my leave of you and go find my fellows.’

  ‘Sure, and thank you for your help,’ said Rishi. ‘I’ll write back to you at the earliest.’

  ‘You’re always welcome, Mr Verma.’ Edward Higgins walked away, looking around.

  The crowd in the Bovarian Grand had thinned out by the time they started their conversation. Karan presented the business plan concisely to Zabar as his British colleagues listened and had their drinks.

  ‘Prima facie, it sounds interesting,’ said Zabar, after listening intently. ‘Send me more information on it.’

  ‘How long are you here for?’ asked Karan.

  ‘I’ll be leaving for Singapore early in the morning. Whether we are meeting again depends on how my team rates your plan, gentlemen.’

  The three of them nodded in agreement, wished Zabar and his colleagues a good night, and exited the hall.

  As they reached the foyer, a drunken Vidu insisted on going back to find out if Leena was still in Balraj’s suite. Karan and Rishi had to tow him to the car park.

  On the evening of the second day of the summit, Paresh Menon went to Leena’s house with the hope of staying back at night. At the office, they could only hurriedly talk about what transpired between Balraj and her.

  ‘Leena, I’m sorry about what happened in the suite,’ said Paresh, sitting down. ‘But what you’ve got is hardly information.’

  ‘What else do you want me to do?’ she whimpered, recalling her experience from the previous night.

  When Balraj collapsed onto the bed and passed out, Leena ran out of the suite, barefoot, to the nearest elevator, thanking her Gods a thousand times. Balraj woke up only in the morning, and fortunately, for Leena, he recalled nothing of what happened the previous night.

  ‘Get me the details, Leena. I’m sure someone in his company is working on his takeover bid. Find out who’s doing that. Get me the names of all those in Mayford who are supporting him. That’s what is going to be information for Shigeru.’

  ‘Paresh, why don’t you understand? The dog pushed me onto the bed last night. He even got my number from somewhere and called me this morning.’ She snivelled.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He wanted to know what happened after he finished his seventh drink.’

  ‘It seems he had a major black out. What did you say?’

  ‘I told him we chatted for a while and since he was feeling tired and sleepy, I left after wishing him a good night.’

  ‘Smart kitten.’

  Leena sobbed. ‘I can’t do all this anymore.’ She burst out crying.

  ‘You can’t do this anymore? Fine. We’ll not discuss this again.’ His tone was firm and intimidating. ‘I’ll find someone else to do this and—’

  ‘No!’ she bawled, covering her mouth.

  Paresh was confident that no other female employee in the hotel could do the job better. He got up to console her. ‘Awh, come on.’ He sat beside her and stroked her back, holding her close. She resisted the gesture and shifted away from him. ‘Don’t be a wimp, Leena. Do one thing. Take a break for a few days. You need it.’ He tried comforting her in her distress, rubbing her nape.

  The crying stopped after some time. Yearning to feel safe, she rested her head on his shoulder and stayed in that position for some time.

  Paresh wanted to stay for the night but decided against it. She was showing signs of improvement and he did not want to muddle up things. For a change, he kissed her forehead, picked up his bag, and left.

  The next day, she called Sameera to her place. Sameera was not at all surprised when Leena told her about her relationship with Paresh. When Leena shared what he had forced her into and recounted how she was molested by Balraj, Sameera could not contain herself.

  ‘God, Leena!’ she embraced her. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me?’ Sameera was shocked, furious, and fearful.

  ‘I guess I deserved this.’ Leena sobbed, lowering herself onto the couch.

  Sameera’s only advice to her friend was that the sooner she got away from the two men, the better. While one was a nefarious operator, the other was a dauntless criminal.

  Karan, Rishi, and Vidu spent the next few days sending mails to the delegates they met and got a few early responses too. One was from Ralf Kramer. He wrote:

  Hi Karan,

  We have reviewed your business plan. However, we have decided to wait for a couple of years before investing in India.

  Thank you for considering us. We wish you the best in your endeavours.

  Best regards,

  Ralf Kramer

  Managing Director

  Hoffmann Investments

  There was a reply from Dan Zabar too. He wrote:

  Dear Mr Rishi Verma,

  We have received your business plan. We will get back to you at the earliest.

  Regards,

  Dan Zabar

  Chairman &Partner

  Windlyn Capital

  The response from Kramer was discouraging. Zabar’s response, on the other hand, was neutral. Later, they received more replies. Annemarie Schega’s CEO wrote that he needed time to go through the plan—a neutral reply; Joel Distad, promoter of a Norwegian frozen meat company, wrote back saying he had decided not to invest in beverages—case closed; and Hibiki Nakamura, a Japanese beverage manufacturer, wanted to visit Gul Manwani’s plant in the month of March, the next year before talking further—a positive but slow case.

  The last date for them to forward details about their investor to Manwani was only seven weeks away, after which the beverage maker would review proposals from other parties.

  For days, the media discussed the effect of the summit on the business climate in India. For the Mayford Ritz Hotel, the event was a grand success. However, it was too early for Shigeru Yamazaki to believe he had averted Balraj’s takeover, as the real estate builder continued to advance towards his goal, slowly but steadily.

  13

  Forty-one days later.

  Dan Zabar consulted his watch. He called Room Service and ordered green tea. He had arrived in Delhi from London a day before, and this was his fourth visit to India in a year. Whenever he was in Delhi, Mayford Ritz was his only preference.

  Minutes later, he got up as the doorbell rang. A waiter in a white uniform entered the suite with a tray. Zabar then called Reservations while the waiter poured his tea. ‘I want a meeting room booked in the Business Centre from ten to one.’ He specified his requirements. ‘Then I have a business lunch with two guests … Yes … Please reserve a corner table in the Imperial Arch,’ he instructed. Nodding to the waiter who placed his tea before him, he said, ‘For the evening arrangements, I’ll call in the afternoon.’

  He had barely put the receiver down when his phone rang. ‘Dan Zabar,’ he announced like a duke to the unknown caller. ‘Morning, Mr Malhotra,’ he greeted back a bit gal
lingly. ‘No. I am here for a few days only and have a crowded calendar … No … I don’t see any possibility … Maybe the next time … A good day to you as well, Mr Malhotra.’ He disconnected the call, taking a long breath.

  Every time Zabar visited India, he received several calls soliciting a meeting with him. He disappointed most callers. For more than a decade, his firm had been investing in sectors like consumer goods, e-commerce, and technology. A majority of the ventures had delivered high returns. The chairman and partner of Windlyn Capital had his own ways of identifying the right venture.

  He finished his tea, got out of his clothes, and went to the bathroom.

  In less than an hour, he was in a meeting room at the Business Centre, going through his mails and chatting with two other colleagues, both of whom were British and had travelled with him from London.

  A mild buzz of the intercom drew their attention. Rick Wilson, managing partner—a man with golden hair and a permanent expression of impatience—put the speaker on. A female voice informed them that their visitors had arrived. ‘Send them in,’ he said.

  An attendant ushered in Karan Jaani, Rishi Verma, and Vidu Nandi, who were in their best formals for the meeting.

  The British executives liked fundraisers to be in formal attire. That was a tip-off from Edward Higgins, the old man who had introduced the entrepreneurs to Zabar at the summit, and with whom Rishi had been in touch. ‘Dress code: formal. Conduct: formal,’ was what Higgins had advised.

  They had been communicating with Windlyn for more than a month. Zabar had agreed to meet them once he was in Delhi again, and only six weeks after the summit, the two parties were now sitting across the table in the same hotel to discuss the business plan and the first round of funding. The previous day, Zabar and his men had visited Manwani Beverages along with the three of them. Gul Manwani showed them around and stuck to his trait—talk big and reveal less.

  ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ said Zabar in his authoritative voice, as his other colleague, Mark Allen, the investment director—a crafty bald man—opened his laptop.

  ‘We thank all of you for sparing your valuable time again,’ said Karan. ‘We have with us all the necessary documents.’