Chasing Columbus

Present day March 2008 - Holiday Inn, Pudong, Shanghai

Present day

March 2008 - Holiday Inn, Pudong, ShanghaiFor the umpteenth time Guy Tresanton looked around the crowded conference hall of the Holiday Inn, realising that a lot more people were present than he had first thought. Pangs of fear gripped his stomach and waves of adrenalin flooded his body, making him feel giddy as his eyes flickered down to his opening speech. This was it; four hundred people sat expectantly in front of him and his was the opening speech for this first conference in Shanghai. Everything looked perfect; Pudong was chosen as the location for this important event as from its development in the 1990’s Pudong had emerged as China's financial and commercial hub. He tried to put thoughts of escape into Puxi, the older part of Shanghai, to one side as he looked through his notes and for what felt like the hundredth time went over his opening words. This was his show, the big one. After months of preparation, he finally had his company’s entire Asian supplier base in front of him. They were here for a reason; his company needed them, but if his plans were to come to fruition, he needed them even more.

Guy took off the gold-framed glasses he used for reading, pushing back his unruly sandy hair that had a tendency to hang in waves over his face. Over six feet tall, with light blue eyes and a slightly freckled face that looked as if it had a perpetual frown of concentration, Guy gave the appearance of an over indulgent school master. He looked younger than his forty-seven years with a boyish grin that lit up his face, instantly banishing the frown. However, despite an athletic spring to his step from daily treadmill and weight training, Guy’s slumped shoulders currently gave him a careworn appearance. The truth was he was at the end of a long relationship and a single future beckoned which was not appealing.

Shuffling his papers to re-focus his mind Guy could see his entire Chinese sourcing team sitting on the conference chairs, with expectant faces waiting for him to start speaking. Amongst them, he could see his local Sourcing Director, a tall slim man called Sam Ling. This was their show, as important to them as him, four months in the planning and it had to succeed as his proverbial neck was on the line. IPT Impact Technologies, his employer had been nominally in the region sourcing products for many years but only recently, under his stewardship, had they become serious in purchasing high technology medical components for their own Swiss and England based factories. He had fought against prejudice and outright obstruction to get this far; including battles with his own boss a humourless Swiss Finance Director called Manfred Christ.

IPT, had until recently, controlled the niche biotech market for high technology valve systems. Complacent of their position in this specialist field, IPT had been shaken to find themselves the subjects of serious low cost Asian competition. The initial response had been to ignore it, confident of their brand leadership and expecting that it would go away. When this strategy did not work, a maverick owner had appointed Guy on the basis that something needed to be done. Unfortunately, in the conservative Swiss business world the maverick owner did not last long, especially as his actions had been against the wishes of the board. This left Guy without the support of the man who had recruited him and fierce resistance from the rest of his colleagues at IPT to his sourcing work in China.

Guy was convinced that the only way to save both him and the Chinese team was a show of strength at this conference; seeing it as an opportunity to demonstrate the effectiveness of his business plans and the excellent work he and the team had done so far. His nervousness returned, as he knew that in the audience there were half a dozen senior Swiss managers waiting to watch him fail and prove their doubts correct. Guy was determined to disappoint them. The ‘Winterthur Mafia’, as he called them, sat unsmiling in the front row seats all in the same black suits.

Guy ignored them. He was on the verge of a major breakthrough in building a credible supplier base with innovative ideas. This would put them ahead of the competition and well placed for the next decade. The only problem was, the suppliers were high technology specialists and he was the salesperson. Minutes to go and Guy looked around again, seeing Manfred right in the centre of the front row with an expression that said, ‘this had better be good.’ Guy clenched his teeth, this was his one chance, he thought, blow this and he could kiss the job goodbye. The man did not like him and had been looking for ages for an excuse to get rid of him. Guy prayed to whatever God was watching over him as the lights dimmed that he would not give him that reason. His legs felt like lead and his chest was thumping. He saw the large professional camera outfit in the corner as its light turned green, it was time. He forced a smile and gripped the lectern harder.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to IPT’s first Asian Supplier Conference.” He felt himself shaking as he said the words but concentrated as the first of his PowerPoint slides appeared on the large screen behind him. He waited until his Chinese colleague translated his opening remarks. He stammered over a couple of words and tried to tell a poor joke, which fell flat on the inscrutable Chinese audience in front of him and even flatter on the Swiss Mafia. He took a long gulp of water and stumbled on through the presentation trying desperately to gain fluency. Time passed interminably slowly as he made his way through the prepared slides. He finished the water and smiled wanly as a girl replaced the glass and he took a sip.

“Your technology is fundamental to us and this is not about us saving money but working with you as partners,” he continued. “We expect the highest standards in our trading as we are signatories to the United Nations Trading Compact.” He froze as his vision suddenly started to blur, shaking his head and making a mental note to get his eyesight checked. He started on the next slide waiting whilst the translator caught up and groaned as he felt his head sway and his legs start to buckle. What was happening to him? His mouth dried up, he could not speak. He grabbed the glass of water and could not hold it he was shaking too much. He saw the impassive gaze of the audience waiting for him as if suspended in time, his eyes drifting to Manfred where he could see the beginnings of a familiar frown. His mind started to free wheel, the room spun around and he lurched forwards. There was a scream somewhere in the background as he collapsed to the side taking the podium with him as his world went black.

“Where am I?” Guy groggily came to in a side room, struggled to sit up, and looked around him. “You collapsed, we brought you in here,” replied Sam, his face showing concern for his business colleague. “The conference, what’s happening?” Guy wanted to know as the memories of his collapse flooded back into his muzzy brain. “It was cut short, Manfred announced an early meal.” Sam announced flatly. “Is he still here?”

“He’s gone, said he had to get back to Switzerland, said you would know the reason why,” said Sam quickly. “It’s over isn’t it?”

“I’m finished,” groaned Guy sitting up and feeling nauseous. He slumped back down, so much for treating people with respect. “You fainted,” uttered a voice beside him. He looked around and saw a small bespectacled man. “I’m the hotel doctor; you passed out probably through tension.”

“It was the damned water, there was something in it,” shouted Guy trying to sit up again. “Check the glass Sam! Go and see to the team!”

“It broke as you fell to the ground; you took the podium with you,” said the doctor. “I was drugged, I’m telling you. There is no other explanation.” Guy put his feet gingerly on the floor trying to stand up. His arm was badly bruised and he felt like his ankle had twisted during the fall. “It’s quite common in moments of extreme stress for the body to shut down as a defensive reaction,” said the doctor reassuringly, “It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Worried about?” Guy exploded, “It’s just cost me my job, that’s all,” he shouted at last managing to stand up. “You should rest for a while,” interrupted the doctor packing his equipment away. “Take these pills twice a day; they will slow down your pulse, calm you down.”

“I don’t need calming down!” roared the reluctant patient as a woman opened the door. “Who the hell are you?” he glared at the newcomer. “My name is Else, I’m the Sales Director for DWT, one of your suppliers, are you alright?” her hesitation in the face of his anger was apparent. “As well as can be expected.” With bad grace, Guy tried to pull himself together to respond to her polite enquiry. “May we talk in private?” Else said and sat down in the chair recently vacated by the doctor. “I guess so.” Guy sat back down and felt a little better, though in no mood for gracious platitudes. He subconsciously pushed his hair backwards. “What can I do for you?”

Else hesitated and looked around to make sure that the doctor had left the room before whispering, “That was a first warning.”

“What?” Guy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment, this was the last thing he expected her to say. “The water was drugged; you were targeted to teach a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“Stop exploiting our people. You think you are doing our people a favour but you’re not.” Guy was astounded. “We provide employment, isn’t that a good thing?” he puzzled aloud. “You are encouraging people to grow greedy, ruining our environment.” Else’s face was inscrutable as she delivered her message, leaning back in her chair with folded arms to ward off any argument. “Hardly all my fault, besides I probably don’t have a job now so it hardly matters and there are many companies doing far worse than me.” Guy was poignantly reminded of his own dire situation again. “I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt in the fall Mr Tresanton. We don’t want to hurt people only give them a shock.”

“This is about more than saving Chinese workers, what is it?” asked Guy looking at her quizzically. “Nothing else Mr Tresanton,” replied Else looking flustered. “Good day.” She abruptly stood up and left.

Later, Guy sat in the hotel St Regis in Pudong looking out of the window, his discarded BlackBerry on the floor. The email from Manfred had been curt and economical with words as always; Unfortunate event, role no longer viable please return to make suitable arrangements. Swiss speak for termination no doubt, and not a word about his health. Not even a polite enquiry. Well, thought Guy adrenaline cursing through him once more, sod them, he would resign. He would not give them the satisfaction of firing him.

Anger propelling him across the room, he decided to check out the other odd event of the day and grabbed the phone, calling the number for DWT. He soon found out that no one called Else had ever worked there; it was clear that the woman he had met that afternoon was a fake. What was going on?

As he sat musing over this latest revelation, his mobile phone rang, the tinny sound breaking through the tension in the room. He looked at the screen with surprise; it was his mother in England. She never rang him on his business phone. “Guy, it’s your father.” His mother’s voice sounded etched with fear.

“What about him?” Guy ran his hands unconsciously through his hair in agitation, whilst trying to sound calm for his mother. “He’s missing.”

“Missing? How? Where?” The words came out in rapid succession as Guy grappled to understand what he was being told. “In Hong Kong yesterday, the police rang. Oh Guy, I don’t know what to do, are you somewhere near Hong Kong?” The tears in her voice were clear even at this distance and Guy felt wretched with the desire to comfort her. “Leave it with me mother, tell me what happened.”

“A boat trip in the harbour after his lecture, on one of those so-called ‘junk’ boats; you know the ocean sailing boats? He never returned and hasn’t been seen since.” Her voice broke off again. “The police?” Guy asked without much hope. “They don’t know much more.”

“Is there anything, try and think.”

“I can’t think of anything else. The police want to question you.”

“Me?” replied Guy puzzled. His father was an eminent psychologist much in demand. “Why me?”

“I don’t know. A junk was found abandoned, but it wasn’t registered anywhere. Someone had tried to set fire to it.”

“All right mother, leave it with me.” Guy dropped the phone. How much worse could things get? He rang Sam’s local secretary. “I need the first flight to Hong Kong.” He slammed the phone on the bed and made his way through to the bathroom.