Plane, Pain, Plan

Jakarta to Singapore, Friday, 14 April 1995

The plane journey back to Singapore was a mixture of pleasure and pain for James. He calculated and recalculated how much profit Fang Trading was likely to make out of Suharto’s ‘little problem’. Each time he re-ran the figures in his head, a warm glow spread throughout the rest of his body. He thought about the possible colours of the new Ferrari he would try to buy if the deal came off.

He suffered greatly, however, on several counts. He could predict the resistance he would come up against from his brothers and father regarding the Ferrari. He also felt sick from the buffeting given by the early evening tropical turbulence. This not only prevented the cabin crew from providing any in-flight service but kept the same flirty airhostess that had made eyes at James on the way to Jakarta belted into her seat.

James knew that the Ferrari issue would cause yet another family argument. Over the past few years he had become increasingly bitter about the way his father and brothers shared equally in the significant profits he had generated for Fang Trading. They also prevented him from spending money on what he considered to be reasonable perks for the chief executive. There had been a heated family debate last year about an expensive golf-club membership, which would have been for the exclusive use of James and also about the acquisition of a Jaguar car. James had insisted on the club membership but conceded on the car, since he already owned, or rather the company did on his behalf, a year-old Mercedes Coupe.

All his life James had had to kowtow to his overbearing and successful father. In theory, the day-to-day responsibility for running Fang Trading had passed to James some years ago. In practice, however, James had to report on a weekly basis to his father exactly what had happened and to seek his endorsement, which amounted to permission to carry out anything of significance. This in itself would have been annoying enough. He also had to contend with his two brothers, who were to James’ thinking completely devoid of any entrepreneurial instinct. Moreover they were dipping their hands in his till without having contributed in any material way to what was in it.

As James was being bounced around inside the Airbus, considering the unfairness of life and devising plans for obtaining the Ferrari, an idea slowly came to him; an idea of such simplicity and yet audacity that he was temporarily stunned. If it came off, he could raise two fingers to his whole interfering bloody family and live a life of luxury forever-surrounded by a different coloured Ferrari for each day of the week.

For the rest of the journey, James’s fertile mind was so involved with developing this idea that he was completely unaware of the continued bumpiness of the flight.

By the time they touched down in Singapore, James had determined that he needed to make two telephone calls. The second could be made on his car phone. The first, however, needed to be strictly confidential. Even old Abdullah, his Malay driver, who knew well enough when to keep both his ears and mouth closed, could not be trusted with this information.

He had also managed to slip the flirty hostess a copy of his business card with a messages asking her to ring him tonight. From the look on her face he was left in no doubt that she would.

When he had cleared immigration, James found a quiet corner in the vast airport, took out his mobile phone and made the call to London that would change his whole life. By the time he had finished talking, passed through customs and been met by Abdullah, James was convinced that the Ferrari was within his grasp. He had finally found a way to break free from the clutches of his father.

Now all he had to do was to wait for his mobile to ring again and set up a late-night dinner appointment with the flirty hostess. At forty-two, life wasn’t so bad after all.